The Conduit
by Ista
Summary: A woman discovers her extraordinary gift during an Avengers mission gone sour. She falls for the god of mischief, but how can you love someone if you can never touch them? AU, mainly Loki/OC. Also focuses on Steve and the whole bunch eventually.
1. An Interrupted Study Session

**The Conduit**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters except for Kaila Larson. Wish I did!

**A/N: **My first "Avengers" fiction, and I'm so excited to share it with all of you! As is almost always the case, my inspiration stems not only from the source material, but also the incredibly moving fanfics I've loved and obsessed over for the past few months. Thank you for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 1: A Study Session Interrupted**

I ordered another chai latte and tried to focus on the papers in front of me. The collage of study guides and stacks of notes were dizzying. For one brief moment, I brushed my light brown hair away from my face and rested my palms on my temples. Why had I chosen the English major route?

Outside the window, I caught glimpses of another drizzly afternoon in Seattle, with bursts of brilliant sunshine and rising temperatures. Scrambling for a pen, I scribbled a brief verse down in the corner of one of my notebooks. Pausing for a second, I re-read the line and smiled.

I remembered now. I did it for the poetry.

The barista set my steaming mug in front of me and I took a bite of a maple pecan scone before bringing the cup to my lips. I took a sip, brought a stack of papers closer, leaned over—

-and half the café exploded.

There was a blur as I scrambled away from the vortex of shredded papers, wood, smoking electronics, and hot tea that had, only moments ago, been my study session. Wind like a hurricane was blowing around the interior of the coffee shop and out broken windows, but the cause of the storm didn't stem from outside.

A handful of patrons inside the café dashed to safety through doors and broken windows, screaming as they left. I was about to follow them when something slammed into my side, knocking me against a wall.

When I regained my breath, coming in ragged gasps, I took a good look at the cause of my study session interruption (and subsequent destruction of my favorite café) and had to blink a couple times.

It wasn't really possible.

An epic battle was taking place right before my eyes, a physical confrontation between what could only be described as a giant _slimy_ mud monster, and a man. At least, he looked like a man. He was tall and slender, decked out in armor which gleamed gold and green. His helmet was golden too, sloping into two horns at the top, which reminded me slightly of antlers. As he easily ducked a powerful punch by the mud monster, brown goo smearing the shredded walls and light fixtures, the man slid to the right, and a blue energy shot out of his fingertips. I gasped as the mud monster's arm was temporarily frozen, and he groaned, a gurgling howl that made me cover my ears.

The man—no, not _actually _a man, because real men couldn't _do_ what he just _did_—suddenly noticed me, and he didn't look happy about it.

I tried to slink away.

"What are you doing here?" he shouted with the crispest English accent. "Run!"

The mud monster exchanged further blows with him, and I took the hint. There was only one problem: The swamp thing was blocking the nearest exit.

As quietly as I could, I crept towards the broken windows, trying to avoid stepping on broken glass or giving myself away. Unfortunately, I have never been a very coordinated individual, and I tripped over a broken chair leg.

The next thing I remembered, through the stinging in my shin, was the feeling of wet clay covering my mid-section. I then realized that that the monster had spattered me with mud before picking me up with one hand.

There was no point in vocalizing my terror, but I shrieked anyway. Everything was happening so fast. I felt myself moving through the air, dodging blasts of ice from the strange man as he tried to reach me.

And then the corner of the coffee shop _opened_ up. The wind rushing around me became a hurricane's howl and it swirled around a blue circle inside the cafe, pinned like a spotlight and spinning with the force of a twister. I couldn't even cry because my eyes were stinging with the pressure of the wind. I screamed again, but the sound was gone before I heard it, sucked into the light like a spider in a vacuum cleaner.

"Hold on!" came the strange man's cry.

_To what? _I thought. My arms were pinned together by the force of the monster's grip, as well as the mud, which was drying quickly like glue.

"I'll be right behind you!" he shouted, dodging the monster's blows, eyes flashing with green fire.

"I don't underst—" I began, but then the slimy creature stepped into the blue light and we were gone.

The sensation was akin to being on a roller coaster, only there were no handrails, there were no safety bars, and there was no track. It was partly free-falling, partly spinning, and partly being pulled in four different directions at once. The iron grip the monster had on me crushed the air from my lungs, and I screamed, but there was no sound.

As my feet dangled, I snuck a glance below them and watched as a small circle of green and blue rushed up to meet us. I didn't comprehend until it was too late that the planet wasn't getting closer to us—we were getting closer to _it._

We landed with a _crash_ after which I was amazed that I was still conscious, and even more amazed that I hadn't broken every bone in my body. The swamp thing's grip on me loosened during the abrupt landing, and I slid through his slick fingers, as big as branches, falling to the ground below.

I was already covered in mud, so I wasn't terribly upset when I landed in a thick mix of water, clay, and moss, which oozed up to my waist. We had apparently landed in a swamp (perhaps Swampy's home base, I thought) and the area was relatively isolated. The sound of small creatures, such as insects and birds, met my ears, and thick fog floated around the area, obscuring dark trees nearby.

"Isn't this where Yoda lives?" I said out loud, and then made a dash for it when the mud monster grabbed at me again.

Unfortunately, the muck underfoot slowed my get-a-way and Swampy was less dazed by the recent teleportation experience. He easily picked me up, squeezing my ribs painfully. As he brought me closer towards his gigantic head, I suddenly wished that I had lost my sense of smell in the ordeal because the mud _reeked_. The odor was somewhere between post-marathon gym socks and moldy tuna.

As I wrinkled my nose, I realized that Swampy was watching me carefully. His eyes were amber-colored and surprisingly full of emotion. Following a meaningful blink, he moaned softly, the sound reminiscent of cattle lowing.

"What do you want from me?" I asked softly.

He opened his mouth as if to say something and that's when the stranger from before came catapulting through the portal and landed on top of the creature.

Swampy dropped me in the ensuing scuffle, and I found myself waist-deep in muck again, desperately trying to maneuver away from the mayhem.

In my escape, I glanced back and saw that the stranger was not doing so well. Swampy seemed to have the upper hand back on his home planet (go figure) and grabbed hold of the man in armor, tossing him about like a rag doll. As soon as the stranger wriggled free, he lost his footing in the slick terrain and the monster picked him up again, flinging him into a nearby tree, and then throwing him just past my location. I scrambled towards him, my heart beat echoing in my ears, painfully conscious of the fact that the stranger was not moving, and was slowly sinking into the bog.

"Wait!" I cried, as if he could stop himself, and I grabbed his left hand, which was just barely sticking out of the mud.

It was then that several things happened at once, and my life changed forever.

The first thing that happened was that I felt a surge of energy rush through me, as if I had just drunk ten cups of coffee in the past second. With the energy came a chill, like a cold breeze running through my veins. Confused and slightly disoriented, I pulled the stranger out of the swamp as easily as if he weighed as much as a stuffed animal, my hand firmly clenched to his.

Coughing and sputtering, the stranger woke up, saw my hand holding his hand, and his eyes widened with absolute terror.

"No," he muttered, but he was already slipping back into unconsciousness. "Please . . ."

Swampy was rapidly approaching us, so I took it upon myself to get onto solid ground, if I could find some. My hand still tightly attached to the stranger's, I pulled him along beside me, half supporting him, half dragging him in my haste to get away.

As we navigated through the swamp, I felt the energy grow inside me, the gentle glow of cold fire. It scared and invigorated me at the same time.

At last, I found relatively dry land, and I gently set the man in armor down, his head resting against the trunk of a small tree. I let go of his hand, and felt an immediate change. Like a light switching off, the flow of energy had stopped. Had the power come from him? Is that what he tried to warn me about? I scanned him quickly, searching for signs of life.

"Hey," I said, shaking his sides. "Wake up."

Then I heard a familiar grunting sound behind me, and there was the rotten smell of diapers that almost made me pass out beside the man.

I turned around slowly, acutely aware that I no longer felt helpless. I had strength now—but was I strong enough to take on a swamp monster?

"Listen," I said, looking up at the towering figure who was clenching and unclenching his enormous fists, as big as wine casks. "We could stop right now. You could go back to your swamp home and make some nice soup. I could go back to Seattle and pretend that this whole thing was a post-final exam hallucination brought on by lack of sleep and stress. Does this sound good to you? 'Cause it sounds pretty amazing to me."

With one _smack_, I found myself flying through the air to face plant back into the swamp. Well, at least it was a soft landing. And yet, after a fall that probably should have killed me, I sprang up as if nothing had happened, wiping mud out of my eyes. Then fear flooded through me as Swampy approached the stranger's still form.

I acted before my brain could comprehend what exactly I was doing. If I had run any faster, I would have been gliding. As the creature raised one hand to pummel the man, I grabbed him by one giant leg, the size of a tree trunk, and swung him into the air, tossing him lightly aside. Swampy fell into the bog with a thick splash, and stirred slowly, dazed. Those amber eyes were now terrified, widely looking at me as I turned around to face him.

"You. Do _not_. Touch. Him."

Before Swampy could even let out a low moan of panic, I picked him up again by the leg and threw him far into the forest, felling several trees as he crashed through the air and eventually lay still.

I paused for a moment, breathless and unable to comprehend what I had just done. But then I remembered the stranger, and I dashed back to where I had left him.

He was pale and unconscious, face pressed on his side into the earth. I tried to imagine that he was just asleep, that he had conveniently fallen down in the middle of a fight with a bad-ass swamp monster on purpose for a short nap. But no pleasant thoughts could fully convince me that this mysterious stranger was actually all right. I had seen the blows the monster inflicted upon him, and I could see the blood. And there was what _I_ had done to him. What _had_ I done?

As I had reached out to him before, I stopped my hands before they touched him, realizing that they were shaking. I had never felt such power—physical power—before. It was as if every muscle I had never used suddenly became taut and on guard, like a bow running along tight strings. I could almost _hear_ the hum of the power surrounding me.

I dare not touch him, afraid that my contact would hurt him again. What had happened, exactly? It was as if his form had contracted, writhing and weakening as soon as I had grabbed his hand. The look in his eyes before they closed was the worst part. His expression had been a combination of confusion, fear, and absolute hate.

Although the power was completely new to me, I somehow knew precisely what I could accomplish with it. Unknown words fell off my tongue before I could stop them, and suddenly, I was surrounded by . . . myself. There must have been fifty other Kailas, all spread out in a semi-circle, ready to fight, then looking puzzled.

Dizzily, I tried to focus, taking a deep breath. There were too many figures to count. But I just needed one for my task. Just one.

Steadying my breathing, I imagined a single copy of myself. Immediately, the figures whipped sideways, combining in on themselves like single strands of a slinky, until there was only one. I merely had to _think_ her task, and she walked over to the fallen stranger, as if she was me.

And she _was_ me, wasn't she?

I took in a sharp breath as my copy approached his form, knelt down, and then touched the side of his face.

Nothing.

"Good," I whispered. Apparently the copy of myself didn't have the same effect on him that I did.

Standing beside the double, I studied his form and winced. Deep and bloody gashes crisscrossed his mid-section, probably from being thrown into (and shattering) the tree. I couldn't tell what other damage had been done because of the heavy armor that completely covered most of his body.

As the copy wiped away some of the mud on the stranger's face, I removed his bulky helmet, which would only weigh us down if we needed to move him anywhere. I admired its golden gleam for a few moments, and then tossed it aside.

_Transport_, I thought, and once again looked at the massive circular light swirling and shining several feet away. Characters marked in white stood out against the marshy forest floor, varying in boldness when light reflected off them.

"Hello?" I said loudly, leaning over the stranger once more. My copy continued ministering to him. "Can you hear me? I'm very sorry that you got hurt, but I have no idea where we are. I didn't mean to hurt you. I mean—I'm not sure what happened. If you tell me what to do, I will get us out of here."

Slowly, the mysterious figure stirred. When his eyes rolled open, he looked at me with pure contempt.

"Foolish . . ." he muttered with a raspy voice.

"Look, I didn't ask for you and your monster to interrupt my study session." I pointed towards the blue light close by. "What _is_ that thing? It looks similar to what I got sucked into to get here. Will it take us back to Seattle . . . or—um—Earth?

The stranger's energy was faltering. He whispered, "The portal," in acknowledgment, before closing his eyes.

Wind blew my hair around me, stemming from the swirl of blue clouds around us.

The part of me that didn't understand what was going on listened to the other part of me that knew instinctively where this portal led and what it promised. Fear became the hammering of my heart and the new power surging inside me. But wait—did I feel a glimmer of weakness? I couldn't be sure.

My copy obediently dragged the stranger as gently as it could toward the blustery circle. As they reached its center, lights above, like stars, began flashing down upon them. My old self chuckled inwardly, the scene reminding me of alien abductions.

_Beam us up._

Then I joined them in the circle and reached my right hand up towards the heavens. My mouth uttered words I had never heard before, and we were gone.


	2. The Snake and the Trickster

**The Conduit**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters except for Kaila Larson. Wish I did!

**A/N: **Thank you for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2: The Snake and the Trickster**

Just like the transportation from before, I saw stars shoot past me, flinging us towards darkness, and then we landed hard on packed sand in a blazing summer's heat.

"Woah!" I let the exclamation escape from my lips, followed by a groan of pain. My copy clutched her side instinctively as I did. It hurt to breathe in.

_Not a cracked rib,_ I told myself.

But as I was breathing in again, I felt a tingling sensation spread over my side, and where there was once pain, it dissolved into nothing.

The copy straightened, then smiled, giving me a thumbs-up. The gesture was so _me._

I smiled back, rubbing my side. Was it magic?

Once again, my attention turned back to the stranger. He was still lying in the same spot he had landed. I moved forward swiftly, kneeling beside him. As I was about to press two fingers against his neck to check for a pulse, my double smashed my hand back protectively.

"S-sorry," I said. "Wasn't thinking."

She rubbed her eyes with her hand, squinting, as if I was hopeless, and then began to place her hands on his face, checking for life and feeling for injuries.

I could feel what she felt, but it was like trying to examine the texture of a diamond while wearing oven mitts. The tangible sensation was lost between bodies. How I suddenly longed to take his hand and be the one to care for him.

"He's healing," came a voice, which I didn't recognize right away, then I noticed that it was my own. It's strange to hear your own voice without speaking—the tone is more nasally and alien, even though it's your own.

"Thank God for that," I said, my shadow covering his face. Abruptly, his eyes opened and I jumped back, startled.

I didn't speak to him. He looked at both me and my copy, and then at his surroundings, as if trying to remember where the portal had taken us.

"Where to _now_?" I said through a breath.

His eyelids fluttered. "Towards the mountains. Last portal." Then his eyes closed.

Shielding the sun from my own eyes, I glanced in the direction _he_ had and found the dark brown peaks in the distance, sharply contrasting against the tan-white glow of the desert.

"We have _another_ place to get to?" I moaned, rolling my eyes at my copy.

She shrugged, looking at the stranger worriedly. "He saved your life."

"Only _after_ I was swept away from Seattle and life as I knew it."

"I don't know," she said, standing up. "He seems to know where we need to go. I trust him."

"So do I," I said, "but where are we going?"

My twin look at me, uncomprehending, and then the word seemed to pop in my mind out of nowhere.

We spoke it together: "Asgard."

The word seemed to bring a flutter of hope to my senses. Asgard was like Seattle—Asgard was home—and in order for us to survive, we had to get back there.

While I navigated a path to the mountains, I removed my filthy sweater, mud already dry and flaking off, wrapping it around my waist.

Meanwhile, my copy had fabricated a small bed of plush furs and pillows to be carried by a sturdy desert horse with a harness. The animal and other objects appeared out of thin air, and I felt my powers bending, like another muscle being flexed.

While my twin was making sure the stranger was situated on the furs and as comfortable as possible, I fabricated a sword to defend us in case of any dangers along the way. The sword appeared as lightning-quick as my will had conjured it. The hilt was a swirl of navy blue and silver with a long curved blade.

We began our journey and I was in relatively high spirits, considering. The stranger's magic—whatever it was—had the effect of giving me confidence when I would have been ordinarily terrified out of my mind. My twin sat on the horse as I walked beside her. Every so often she would dismount and check on the stranger. Her comments became more positive along the way:

"He's growing stronger. His breathing is more even. The wound has closed."

But as he grew stronger, I grew weaker. It must have been hours since my scone and tea back in the café, and my stomach was grumbling. Was I really that naïve to think that this super strength would last forever? _Even super heroes must get hungry_, I imagined.

I walked for hours, even as my sight grew blurry with fatigue, and my legs felt numb. My throat was as parched as dry sandpaper, every swallow a reminder that I was dehydrated and that my powers were deflating.

Grunting, I let my sword fall from my hands, its tip sinking into the sand to rest temporarily. To my astonishment, the horse, harness, and furs vanished beside me, another zap of power gone. My twin, flickering in and out like a defective hologram, knelt beside the stranger, now lying on the bare sand.

"He will wake soon," she said, her voice going in and out like a bad cell phone connection. "But we are getting weaker."

I staggered, brought to my knees as the feeling of power lessened. My copy went to me, reaching her hands out, and then she disappeared.

I cried aloud, shocked by the loss of her, as if a piece of myself had vanished forever, then I scrambled for my sword, grasping onto its permanence.

"Don't disappear just yet," I whispered to it. "Wait a little longer."

We were nearing the dark mountains, and I sensed the wind pick up. A portal! It was the same change in atmosphere I had felt when I was close to the last one.

I almost pressed my bare hands into the stranger's palms to move him before I realized my mistake. With no copy to bear his burden, I shakily placed my hands under his arms, walking backwards and dragging him along. He was _much_ heavier than before, in the swamp, and he only grew heavier in my arms.

It was slow going, but it helped that we were already so close to the portal. Now that we were almost there, I felt a twinge of fear. What if I didn't have enough power to get us through the portal? What if we got there and nothing happened? What if I couldn't produce the right words?

I looked at the stranger, his upside-down face so peaceful, faint color coming back to his ever-pale cheeks. He might be able to get us through.

"I sure hope you wake up soon," I said to him, sweat dripping down my back. "Or I might never see Washington again."

As dreary as that state could get sometimes, I would almost do anything to stand in the middle of a rainstorm at that moment.

Waves of heat rippled in the distance. Or was it something else? I blinked sweat out of my eyes and kept dragging him, keeping my sword close by at my side to use if necessary.

When we reached the dark mountains, dry cliffs of packed earth and rocks blocking out the new horizon, I panicked slightly. What if we had to _climb_ the mountain to reach the portal? The thought almost made me faint with anxiety and exhaustion.

Then I heard a soft whisper beside me.

I bent down to the stranger's face, eyes searching, needing an answer.

"You know where the portal is?" I asked.

Closer, the rippling continued. I could hear someone—some_thing—_moving out of the corner of my eye.

"The pass . . . between . . . the mountains," he rasped.

"Where?" I snapped.

Following his eyes, I wrapped my sweater tighter around my waist, and dragged him on. I still sensed something following us, not entirely sure what it was but aware that it did not seem friendly.

We were trailing the edge of the jagged mountains when the stranger's eyes opened again.

"Wait," he mumbled. "I can walk."

"All right, c'mon," I said. "There's something out there that doesn't like our presence."

Wordlessly, I hoisted him up, holding onto him and the sword as we plodded along the mountainside.

"There," he whispered, and I saw the massive entrance, like a lightning bolt had crashed through the middle of the mountain, leaving a sizable path lined with white sand. I listened and picked up the faint hum of energy from the portal, wind stirring the sand around us to dance in the wind like fine particles.

"It is not much farther," he said to me, still a bit breathless. Once again, I found my eyes locked onto his green ones—tantalizing and entrancing. These were eyes with so much mischief in them—as if they had _invented_ the word.

_So why are you trusting him?_

I had no choice.

"Let's get going," I began, and then the ground underneath us suddenly thrust upwards. The stranger flew from my grasp, landing against the cliff edge, and I toppled over across from him.

Instantly, I held the sword out in front of me, prepared for an attack. Or had it been an earthquake?

"Itsss good to see you once more," came a voice, deep and rumbling, accompanied by the delicate sound a rain stick makes.

It made me swallow hard.

"Loki," came the voice. "I knew you would return sssomeday and we would get to catch up. It'ssss been ssso long."

Before my eyes, the hissing took on a visible form as a gigantic snake, tan in color with maroon stripes, wriggled free of the sand and slithered in front of me, coiling until its flattened head towered above us some thirty feet.

"Loki?!" I shouted, too afraid to even move, and genuinely confused. "Who's Loki?"

A small cough made my attention turn to the stranger, sitting up stiffly. "That would be me."

He half-grinned apologetically, and I whipped my head back to the snake. Every impulse in my body—not to mention my paralyzing phobia of slithery things—was telling me to drop the sword and run away, screaming. And yet the power in me, although it was waning, kept me standing firm, sword at the ready.

"Jormungand," came the stranger's voice, stronger now. "How good to see you, my friend."

"Your sssilver tongue won't work on me, Trickster," hissed the snake. "I've ssseen you in serpent form. I sssseek revenge for what you and your brother did to me."

"A friendly game of riddles," said Loki with a wave of his hand. "I'm not sure what you are insinuating."

"You tricked me out of my armor, and the god of thunder banished me to the desert!"

The man named Loki flashed another winning smile, side-stepping closer to the enormous snake and muttering under his breath to me, "It was _too_ much fun."

The snake hissed warningly, coiling up as Loki approached, but the stranger didn't seem to mind. His armor glinted gold and green in the sunlight, getting back some of its previous luster as the stirring sand polished off the dried mud.

"A simple misunderstanding, Jormungand. You were about to _eat_ us, after all."

"I should have sskewered you when I had the chance, Odinson."

"_Laufeyson_," Loki corrected, and there was an edge to his voice.

"Ssso," the snake said, almost chuckling. "Has the All Father finally disowned you?"

"The 'All Father' was never _my _father, Jormungand."

While they were talking, I slipped behind Loki, feeling my power weakening like the last throbs of a caffeine high before the crash. My crash was coming soon, and I wanted to make a move before the energy was finally exhausted.

"And now you're just a whining pathetic castaway like me, eh? Ssstuck in this wasteland of a realm. You don't even have a ssspark of magic left, god of mischief. You have no fire. But I ssstill have my fangsss!"

As the cobra reared, ready to strike, Loki faltered beside me. It was then I knew that his wordplay had indeed been an act, that he was still weak. I pushed Loki behind me as gently as I could, and blocked him with my body. With just enough time to catch the reaction on Loki's face, I delighted in the fact that it was one of pure surprise.

The snake laughed again, the evil sound of hissing, like steam from metal pipes.

"You've got a Midgardian protecting you now, Loki? Weren't _you_ originally protecting Midgardians from me? And a female at that! How sssad and amusing at the sssame time."

With that sentiment, I screamed, lunging forward and driving my blade deeply into the flesh of the serpent.

Jormungand cried sharply as I pulled the blade clean, black blood oozing from his wound. But, to my chagrin, the hurt had not been deep enough. I raised my blood-stained blade, drenched in sweat, readying for Jormungand's counter-attack.

Then my blade vanished, and with it came the feeling of utter weakness. It was similar to the ache your body feels after a full day of mountain climbing. As I staggered, Jormungand struck, lightning-quick, raking my abdomen with his foot-long fangs.

Crying out, I fell into the sand, too weak to move. I couldn't tell if my sight was blurry due to exhaustion or because of the snake venom now coursing through my body.

Jormungand hissed with laughter again and I prepared to die.

"No more fire, no more fire," the snake chanted, its enormous flattened head swaying side to side hypnotically.

Then I felt the stranger—Loki—beside me. He was standing on his own, and on his face was an expression of calm determination.

The snake stopped moving, hesitant.

"No, not fire, Jormungand. Ice."

With that, an explosion of blue energy shot out of his hands. I felt the cold as frost encased the giant snake mid-strike. Like some beautiful, hideous ice sculpture, Jormungand was frozen.

A small chuckle of satisfaction escaped Loki's lips and he sighed, then brushed past me. I saw him cut a fast path through the pass, vanishing out of sight.

Despair washed over me as I felt my world going dark. My tears mingled with blood as it seeped through my shirt, and I felt unnaturally hot, pulse too quick.

_This is what dying feels like,_ I thought.

Slow sleep overcame me as I closed my eyes and rolled over. . .

. . . Until a pinprick on my arm jostled me awake.

But it wasn't a pin, I realized, as I opened bleary eyes.

It was Loki.

He was kneeling beside me, looking at me with a great deal of curiosity. I felt my body sliding back into unconsciousness, but he touched my arm with one fingertip, and I jerked awake again. His small touch was not only keeping me awake, but alive as well. I began to close my eyes, and he poked at me again.

"This is kind of fun," he said, grinning widely.

"Owww," I mumbled. "Stop."

"I don't think you want me to do that," he said, then got up, beginning to pace, as if thinking deeply. He paused abruptly, and kneeled down again. "Why did you save me?"

He pressed another quick finger into my arm when I didn't respond right away.

I winced, eyes open again, my words coming out in an unintentional slur. "You saved my life."

"That was pure coincidence," said Loki. "You could have run through the pass when you saw the World Serpent. You had just enough strength to use the portal. _Why_ did you stay?"

I shrugged, and maybe it was the poison that had muddled my brain, but I spoke the first thing that came to mind. "I like your eyes."

Loki tilted his head slightly, as if a bit shocked. But when he realized that I wasn't lying to him, his lips pursed together.

"I shall take you with me," he said. Instantly, gloves appeared on his hands, and he lifted me easily in his arms. "I would not want to deprive you of my eyes. But do not touch me again. Do you understand?"

I nodded quickly, in too much pain to protest.

"We must move quickly," he said.

"Why?" I mumbled, unable to focus on his face, which faded in and out.

"Because that ice is going to melt soon, and we will have one angry Midgard Serpent back to contend with."

With that, we were gone. I tried to keep my eyes open as the mountain pass whipped by, but everything was a blur and I began to feel nauseous.

At last, I felt the familiar wind on my face and I saw a blue-ish glow up above.

"Loki . . ." I whispered, and I felt myself slipping away again.

Another jolt, like a spark of electricity, woke me up. This time, Loki held his finger on my arm for a second longer, and slight discomfort registered on his face.

"It is not as painful as before," he said, half to me, half to himself. "Short bursts."

The whir of the portal blew my hair into my face and I leaned my head down, without thinking, against Loki's armored shoulder, too dizzy to open my eyes.

He flinched at first contact, and then I felt his body relax. He stood taller.

"Let's go home," he said softly. He was mumbling a strand of syllables from a language I had never heard, although I had spoken the same words once before. And we were gone.

I heard the vast sound of nothingness as we were flung into the stars. Then I _did_ hear something—a subtle steady drum beat, followed by another, more erratic, beat.

It was Loki's heart against mine.

And although this trip was by far the scariest of any of the portal rides, my feverish mind conjuring up other figures in the swirl of shadows and cosmos around us, I felt safer than ever before. This time Loki held me tightly, and I didn't let go.

I had imagined when we landed that I would see the familiar streets of Seattle at dawn, or that we would light in a suburban area reminiscent of Ione Skye's house in _Say Anything_. I had not anticipated the kaleidoscope of colors under my feet, a stairway changing and flickering in space. Like the yellow brick road, this Technicolor gateway pointed towards a city—one of gold and shining buildings, tall and magnificent.

I was not in Washington anymore.

"This is a hallucination, right?" I murmured, but it came out sounding like I was chewing on marbles.

The arrival had been smoother than earlier (probably because Loki knew what he was doing) and he glanced down at me, running a hand through his black hair.

"Asgard," he said, almost triumphantly. "It is my home realm."

Asgard. That sounded familiar. I vaguely remembered feeling attached to this place at some point, as if I knew about it or had been there before.

But it was definitely not Seattle, and that confused me.

I set one foot upon the colorful road only to feel my legs buckling beneath me. Luckily, Loki scooped me up and began carrying me towards the city.

"Brother!" came a voice.

Although my vision was still swimming, I looked up to see a figure running to meet us. He had long flowing blonde hair and wore metal similar to Loki's, although it was silver, and he had a red cape. In one hand, he held a large hammer, which faintly glowed with an energy of its own.

Loki was silent, continuing to walk with me.

"Are you well?" came the other man's eager voice. "We knew not what befell you when the mud giant attacked. I left headquarters to return here and wait for you. . . Who is this?"

_Was he talking about me?_

"A Midgardian," clipped Loki.

"I can see that plainly," said the other, pacing quickly to keep up with us. "Who is she? What happened to her?"

"There was an accident," said Loki. "I will heal her once we get inside the palace."

The other man reached forward to touch me, and Loki slapped his hand away.

"That would be unwise, Thor."

"I do not understand," said the other, and I could tell by his tone that he was becoming frustrated. "Tell me what is going on!"

"This Midgardian is different than most," said Loki, and he set me down on the multicolored road. Gently balancing against his leg, I felt another shock run through me, and I jerked awake.

"A Conduit?" the other gasped. "Only two have been known to us."

"I have found a third," came Loki's proud voice. "Not a bad prize for my pains during the hunt, eh?"

Then Loki pressed his full palm into my arm. I tried to squirm away, but I was too weak. New energy pulsed inside me, but instead of feeling elated, my pulse quickened even more, and I began to see black spots in my vision. . .

"Loki, stop this at once!"

I felt his hand yanked away from my arm. Through my darkened vision, I noticed Loki leaning heavily against the other one, his face contorted with fresh pain.

"She will drain you. We must take her to the healers."

"I can do it!" Loki said, frustration thick in his voice.

"She will die first! What harmed her?"

Loki stirred against the other man, as if coming to his senses in remembrance. "It was Jormungand, the serpent."

New arms picked me up, careful to avoid touching my skin. I felt as if we were flying, then falling, and I only saw black fuzzy stars. . .


	3. The Fever and the First Challenge

**The Conduit**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters except for Kaila Larson. Wish I did!

**A/N: **Let me know how I'm doing. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3: The Fever and the First Challenge**

My eyes slowly opened, but I was more aware of the warmth, peacefulness, and smell of something familiar—was it bread? Or perhaps a sweeter dish. That delicious feeling of almost waking up, but remembering that you can sleep in.

_Must be the weekend already. Cynthia's making breakfast._

I snuggled deeper into the pile of blankets covering me.

Then my arms brushed my sides and I felt a bandage where normally there would have been smooth skin. I froze. The events of the past day (or had it been longer?) washed over me in a flood of memories, and my eyes snapped open.

Temporarily numbed by drowsiness, the pain from my sides and stomach began to hurt, and I moaned out loud, rolling over. At the same time, I heard a small cry, and something fell over.

_You're not alone._

I rubbed sleep out of my eyes and focused on the figure sitting across from me. It was Loki! He had dropped a book and quickly snatched it up from the floor.

I was going to speak but another wave of pain caused me to double over and clench my fists. Suddenly the room was too hot and I was sweating profusely. Flinging the covers off, I was grateful to find that I was wearing pajamas, and I attempted to get out of bed.

"What—What are you doing?" came his voice.

I shrank away from him, actively avoiding his touch, until I saw that he wore thin black gloves.

"Too hot," I managed to say with a croak. "I need some air."

"I shall open a window, but you _must_ sit down. It would be foolish to go outside in your condition."

"Foolish," I muttered with a weak smile, "is definitely what I am. You've made that clear once before. Now get out of my way."

However, Loki was not going to give up that easily. As soon as his hands touched my arms, I felt terribly cold. Sweat ran down my back, in contrast to the sudden chill I felt. Where I had been stifling a moment ago, now I was shivering.

Loki guided me back to the bed. "Your body is still healing, but you are also going through withdrawals as the magic leaves your system. The healers gave you just enough magic to get well."

Only some of what he said made sense. Withdrawals?

Loki placed fresh sheets over me, as well as one downy comforter. He could have placed ten comforters on top of me—I was freezing.

"S-stay with me?" I chattered.

"Well, I was just leaving," he said, his eyes glancing quickly at the book on the chair he'd been sitting on when I woke up.

"Y-you're a t-terrible liar."

His eyes widened at my comment. "That is quite possibly the first time anyone has ever said that before."

Another wave of pain in my abdomen swept over me, and I shivered helplessly. I moaned, conscious of hot tears running down my cheeks. I tried to brush them away, uncomfortable showing emotion in front of someone I didn't know. I had always been that way, for some reason.

"It is all right," he said, although I knew this whole scene was making _him_ more uncomfortable than I felt. He brought a gloved hand to my face and held it there. For a moment, I stopped shaking.

"What is your name?" he asked softly, green eyes so close to mine.

"Kaila Larson," I said.

He leaned in closer to me, his eyes unblinking, focused.

"Kaila," he said, "you are warm and comfortable. You are drifting away. . ."

My eyes unfocused as his words lapped gently over me, like small breakers on the shore.

"Drifting, drifting. . ."

I tried my hardest to stay awake, to speak, to grasp onto anything other than the soft warmth surrounding me.

"You are asleep. . ."

The last thing I remembered were his green eyes, shining brightly into mine.

* * *

The next time I opened my eyes, I became fully awake much faster. I was breathing in fresh air, taking in the light and outdoor sounds of nature.

I felt for the bandages around my midsection and found they weren't as sore as before. Laying my head back against the pillow, I felt myself rocking back and forth, almost suspended in the air. I was in a hammock. Weaving my hands through the thick braided ropes at my sides, I could tell that the hammock was sturdy and well crafted.

Although still weak, I felt much more rested, and my heartbeat was slower and steadier. I didn't feel any anxiety. The energy must have left my system for good—and for that, I was very glad.

"Ah, you are awake," said a deep voice.

I turned my head in the direction of the sound and focused on the man in front of me, his red cape fluttering in the breeze, hammer in hand as before. Yet, there was nothing menacing about him; I felt quite the opposite.

"I am Thor, son of Odin," he said with a quick nod.

"You were the man on the rainbow road," I said, not sure how to name the path that seemed beautiful beyond names, "when I first arrived here."

"Yes, the Bifrost," he said. "Although that is quite an appropriate name for it."

I laughed in spite of myself, blushing. "My name is Kaila Larson."

"It is my pleasure," said Thor, drawing closer, "to meet you, Miss Larson. How do you feel?"

"Much better, thanks."

I propped myself up on one elbow to take in the view beyond Thor, and it was a marvelous view: My hammock drifted between two trees in a courtyard before a small stone railing that overlooked a vast country, full of forests and rivers in the valley below. I remembered the immense palace I saw from the Bifrost, and I realized that I had to be gazing at the countryside of Asgard from inside its walls.

"It's beautiful," I said softly, smiling. "Everything is so bright."

"It is Asgard," Thor said, quite a bit of pride in his voice. "My home." He sat down beside me, swinging on the hammock, carefree.

Asgard. Yes, I recalled the name from before. Now I knew why it brought forth feelings of peace inside me.

We sat in silence for a while, and then I noticed a chair nearby the hammock with a book on it. The scene reminded me of awaking earlier to find the stranger there. Only, he wasn't a stranger anymore.

"Loki," I blurted out, catching Thor's attention. "Where is he?"

Thor bit his lip, as if trying to hold back a smile. "My brother watched over you for two days, and I insisted that he took some rest for himself."

"Your brother!" I was astonished at the thought. I had assumed they were friends, or perhaps merely acquaintances, but I could think of no two people more dissimilar than Thor and Loki.

"I know," said Thor. "The lack of family resemblance is due to Loki being my step brother. Loki is actually from Jotunheim, but he was raised in Asgard. We call the people of Jotunheim Frost Giants."

_That would explain the ice,_ I thought.

"I. . . felt his power. I accidentally took it from him and he collapsed. I-I'm so sorry! I didn't know it would happen."

Thor placed a hand on my arm, covered with a blanket.

"Kaila, it is well. Loki was the one to disturb your realm. It just so happens that he came across a type of person who is very rare in the galaxy. Kaila, you are a Conduit."

"Conduit?"

"You can absorb and channel the powers, skills, and sometimes personalities, of people from realms other than your own."

"Channel?"

"You can either use the powers or give them to someone else. However, since you have only recently learned of your ability, it may take some time to learn to control it. It is a great gift, Kaila."

I winced. "It wasn't a gift when I hurt Loki, or when he brought me back. . . When I almost died."

"Our healers had to fight against the serpent's poison, Kaila. They had to give you enough of their energy so you could heal yourself. It was the only option. We had no way of knowing how much energy would drain you when it left your system. You are the only Conduit who Asgard has seen for the past thousand years, and you are the only known Conduit to come from Midgard. We have much to learn from you. The healers have proposed a few experiments to conduct on you when you are well. In fact, they already ran a few tests when you first arrived here. Do you remember them?"

I shook my head, sitting up. Gradually, I stood. Thor went forward to help me, but I waved him away. Slowly and steadily, I moved to the railing. The idea of experiments, especially ones I couldn't remember, rested uneasily in my mind.

"Did Loki approve of the tests?" I asked quietly, looking out over the woods and the rest of the valley.

"No," said Thor. "It is strange because he acted like you were his. . . his prize at first. But when he saw how you reacted to the healers' treatments, he begged them to finish at once. He disliked seeing you suffer needlessly."

I rubbed my shoulders, pondering this latest bit of information. "Thor, what am I going to do?" I remembered my family and my best friends as if they were distant memories.

The formidable man stood by me. "This is your choice, but I have told people in your government of your whereabouts. Your friends and family believe that you have gone to a conference."

"That's likely," I said sarcastically with a chuckle. "Finals are next week. I'm going to miss them, aren't I?"

Thor leaned in. "Have you ever heard of the Avengers?"

I nodded. "They're heroes, right?" I squinted at him, wondering if I recognized him from the news online. "You're one of them!"

Thor bowed his head in accord. "As is Loki. We are a group who protect Earth against many dangers. You would have to face more tests once we get back to your world, but our director thinks you would be an asset to the team."

I turned to him. "What does Loki think?"

"He disagrees with me, as usual," Thor said with a sigh.

"Because of the tests?"

Thor smiled. "I don't think he wants you to leave Asgard."

I stiffened, not entirely sure what he was implying.

"You miss Earth, I know," said Thor. "I miss it too."

I was surprised. "But I thought Asgard was your home."

"A woman I love is a Midgardian," he said. "Miss Jane Foster. She is a scientist." His eyes became clouded and distant at the thought of her. "I long to return to Earth as well. Thus, I hope you get better soon!"

I laughed, feeling his tease, and feeling comfortable for the first time since I arrived in his realm.

* * *

I spoke with Thor about once a day over the next week I spent in Asgard, exploring its halls and grounds, feeling stronger, and also feeling more lonely. Although I was allowed in almost every section of the palace, and I could come and go as I pleased, people shied away from me. Even servants who brought me food and drink on a regular basis did not stay long to chat. I couldn't help feeling that the Asgardians feared me or loathed me, or both.

I longed for more personal contact, which is why I looked forward to Thor's regular check-ups. He would boast of tales with monsters, magic, and warriors. He told me about Mjolnir, his beloved hammer, and how it was made.

"Loki bet that it could not be forged," said Thor, smiling at the memory, his hand running over the hammer's handle. "But two dwarves proved him wrong."

Eventually, Thor told me about his mother and father, rulers of Asgard, and that he was a prince, next in line to be king.

It made me remember Loki and I thought about him frequently. Why hadn't he come to visit me since those two days of delirium? Thor would conveniently change the subject, so he was no help.

I was reading a book of Asgardian poetry (quite epic, lots of smashing things) while sitting against the trunk of an ancient tree in a small courtyard. The day was warm and made me wonder what kinds of seasons Asgard experienced. Was it spring here as well as in the U.S.?

The sound of footsteps upon cobblestone awakened me from my reverie and I looked up, expecting to find another Asgardian, keeping their distance, when I found Loki instead.

He was dressed in a smooth black robe, similar to one he had worn before, with a crisp silver collar, book in hand, like me. He didn't automatically see me as he stepped into the sunlight, but I waved, catching his attention. In fact, he nearly tripped with the surprise, righting himself and clutching his book tighter.

"Hello," I offered first.

Loki looked as if he was about to say something, but then stopped.

A very awkward ten seconds passed.

"Thank you for caring for me," I said through an anxious breath.

Was there a hint of a smile on his face? I couldn't be sure, and it was gone soon enough either way. Loki bowed stiffly, formally, and turned, walking back from where he had come.

And I was once again alone.

* * *

A few days passed and I inquired of Thor about our departure for Earth. I was ready to get back, to talk to this Director Fury, go through the tests, and be done with it. I was too lonely on this planet, in spite of my developing friendship with Thor. What good was a room with a view if you had no one to share it with?

Another part of me wanted to leave to get away from Loki. The dark stranger whose fate had entwined with my own so suddenly a mere week ago had proven to be distant and cold. I couldn't help feeling responsible for the pain I had caused him, even if it was an accident, and I feared that in this case, first impressions would be the only memory he would ever have of me.

Thor told me that the healers had requested three tests from me, now that I was stronger, before they would release me back to Earth.

I was to wait in the library for the first test, and as I waited, I felt somewhat nervous about the challenges. However, I was also aware that they were the only things keeping me from going back to Earth.

The library, which I visited frequently during my stay in Asgard, was ancient and dusty and smelled of the sweet cinnamon scent of books that were well loved and used over the years. It was a place of comfort for me, being a frequenter of libraries, and that feeling assuaged my fears somewhat.

"I often feel that books speak to me more than some people do," came a woman's voice. "'The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.' Ray Bradbury, _Fahrenheit 451_."

I looked up, a bit startled, from my reading, and I looked into the soft brown eyes of a beautiful lady with long dark brown hair. She wore a long flowing dark green dress with flecks of gold, and a silver necklace, which glinted when she moved. I was quite in awe of her.

"That is one of my favorite books," I said.

It was clear she was an Asgardian from the way she moved, quiet, yet powerful. Her arms were strong and rippled with muscle underneath the fabric. But my slight fear of her dissolved when she smiled warmly.

"My name is Sif," she said and extended a gloved hand.

I was a bit taken aback at the gesture because no one had touched me since I was brought here, except for Thor when he carried me, and Loki when I was sick.

I shook it gratefully, feeling her hand's warmth even through the glove. "Kaila Larson," I said.

She slid into a chair at the desk across from me. "Welcome to Asgard. How do you like it?"

"It's. . . lovely. The scenery is gorgeous, the food is delectable, and there are plenty of books to read, and. . ." My voice trailed away because I couldn't bring myself to speak the truth.

"And you feel more lonely than you have ever felt before," Sif finished for me.

My eyes must have flashed surprise, because she chuckled softly and leaned in closer. "These 'great' people of Asgard pride themselves on peace and acceptance, but they are often afraid of those who are different than them. Many a time I have been shunned for being an outspoken woman, and a warrior at that. I know how you feel."

Instantly, we became friends; conversation flowed easily between us. We shared interests in books, Midgardian classical music, and dessert. I finally felt accepted in this new world where people were as strong as gods, but as fallible as human beings.

"You know, I envy you, Kaila Larson," said Sif, dreamily staring into space. "Sometimes I wish that we were not immortal beings, that we only lived for a hundred years or so."

"But why? There'd be so much more for you to explore," I said. "You don't have to. . . to _fear_ death as much as we do, nor pain, because you can heal yourselves faster."

"Yes, but I think perhaps humans savor their lives more so than we do."

At this, we were interrupted as the library doors clanged open. A group of a dozen Asgardians entered silently, their faces stoic and expressionless. I recognized their mauve-colored garments as distinct from others I'd seen throughout the palace—these were healers of some sort. Other memories flashed through my mind—from when I first arrived in Asgard. The ones in cloaks were touching my arms, prodding my hurt abdomen. Hearing their voices inside my head, asking questions through the venom and I was screaming, screaming. . .

I clicked back into the present. The last person to enter wore a long flowing silver gown. She was older, the color of her hair nearly matching the color of her outfit, but she was stunningly beautiful, and she stood taller than the others. I couldn't help but think that she was an important person in this realm, and as she moved to close the doors behind her, did I detect a smile flash across her face?

One of the healers stepped forward, carrying a small mesh cage. Inside it was some kind of mouse, but this mouse had webbed feet and small tufts of tangerine fur growing out of its prominent ears.

The healer set the cage between Sif and me, then he bowed briefly.

"The council of healers wishes to see your abilities. Sif will give some of her energy to you, and you shall transfer some of that energy to this small creature."

I blinked, not quite understanding what they had just asked me to do. "You want me to zap this mouse?"

The healer exchanged a quick glance with Sif and nodded.

"All right," I said slowly. "I'll give it my best shot."

The healer bowed again and stepped back to join the rest of his group.

I looked at the small mouse-like thing again, so innocent, moving about the cage, munching on some type of food from a porcelain container. Then I looked at Sif, whose eyes were fixed on me.

"Are you ready, Kaila?"

To be honest, I was ready for a final exam on 20th century American poets, or Chaucer, or _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Anything but this.

"Yes," I said.

Sif moved swiftly to where she was standing right beside me. She removed the glove from her right hand and it hovered above my arm for an instant.

Then she touched me. The contact was brief, merely a few seconds, but the feeling—just like when I had touched Loki earlier—spread through me instantly.

Sif let go quickly, gasping with the release, but not too affected. She hadn't touched me for very long, after all.

"What does it feel like?" I whispered, breathing in as the new energy woke my senses.

"Like a burn, and I feel slightly out of breath," said Sif, rubbing her hands together and managing a smile.

I nodded, focusing on the creature inside the mesh cage before me. _A small shock_, I thought. _That's all I have to create. That's all the energy I have in me, anyway. Okay. Okay. Now._

I splayed my hands out, unabashed Fosse fingers turned on their sides, trying to imagine the sparks flying past the mesh to the mouse.

I concentrated and waited.

And nothing happened.

A few minutes passed, and I felt Sif bending over beside me.

"You can do this," she said evenly. "Take your time and do not rush. There is no pressure upon you at this moment."

Oh, but there _was_ pressure. Couldn't Sif imagine what I was feeling at this moment? Couldn't she realize how much I wanted to show these healers—the ones who avoided me—that I could match their abilities?

So I tried, again and again. Each time, feeling that surge of energy, it navigated to my fingers and then ebbed away. Each time I gazed at the small furry creature, and I couldn't do it.

Eventually, the sun began to set, and it grew dark in the library. Some of the healers lit candles, flickering old waxy ones that illuminated the titles of ancient manuscripts and the white marble along the walls.

I kept trying, imagining the shock, the electricity. I pictured it clearly in my mind, and yet it could not happen. Sif was beside me the entire time, murmuring soft encouragements, willing me to go on.

The healers left finally, wordlessly, hours later. I still had not accomplished their task. One of them picked up the mesh cage with the rodent inside and noiselessly departed. Without a "thank you," they were gone.

I sat in the cold library alone, save for Sif at my side. I would have felt drained if not for that small throb of energy inside me, cool, concentrated, and refusing to be spent.

At last, Sif said, "You must be hungry. Come, let us go to the kitchens."

I nodded, silent, choking back my frustration. How had I failed? I couldn't even shock a mouse.

With a heavy sigh, I placed my fingertips on the desk in front of me to stand up, and there was a _whoosh._ All of the candles in the library went out simultaneously and the room plunged into darkness.

We both sat in shock for a few moments, and then a soft chuckle broke the silence. Suddenly the candles were lit once more. I whipped my head around in time to see a hint of silver before the door to the library closed with a _click._ It had been the regal woman I had noticed earlier with the healers.

"I did _that?" _I said with a shivery voice, placing my fingers on the table again. But it was no use. The energy had been spent.


	4. The Final Trials and the King

**The Conduit**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters except for Kaila Larson. Wish I did!

**A/N: **A nice nod to _A Room with a View _in this one, for any Forster fans out there. Thanks for your continued support. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4: The Final Trials and the King**

The second challenge was in a garden, part of one of many courtyards I wandered through over the past week. Sif accompanied me again, my support. With Thor busy arranging my departure back to Earth and accommodations at the Avengers Headquarters, Sif was my main source of Asgardian contact. I had not seen Loki for several days.

The healers entered the garden after us, wearing the same robes, the same bland expressions on their faces. One stepped forward and showed us down a path through the vegetation. I found myself distracted by the brilliant colors of the flowers: pinks, purples, blood reds, and sunshine-yellows. Combined with the sugary perfume of nature, it was a sweet spectacle.

We were led to a small dark corner of the garden where there were fewer arrangements of plants. The healers formed a semi-circle around us, and one knelt down at my side. There was a hint of silver and gold amidst the blur of mauve, and once again I saw the regal lady, partially hidden behind the group.

The healer who was kneeling beckoned us near and indicated a small shriveled-up fern of some kind. It grew alone, isolated from many of the others. I couldn't help thinking that the plant had the misfortune to start growing in a shady spot that only grew shadier throughout the day, blocked by the stone wall that separated the garden from the rest of the palace. In a way, I empathized with the plant; my own self-confidence was withering in the shadow of these great beings and their enchantments.

"It's a sickly thing," said the healer impassively. "Heal it."

I looked up at her, dumbfounded. How was I supposed to do that? Wave my magic wand and. . ?

"All Asgardians have healing powers," explained Sif into my ear. "When I touch you, transfer my energy to the plant and it will grow healthy."

My mind was whirling. "Then I could have. . . I could have saved Loki. When I touched him earlier. I could have—"

"Yes," interjected Sif, removing her gloves. "But you did not know how. Now is the time to practice. Remember to go slowly. There is no—"

"—pressure," I finished. "Right."

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the task. Before I opened them, I felt Sif's soft touch on my hand. There was an immediate icy chill, just like before and, gradually, a blue light filled my fingertips, ebbing and flowing up my arms, through my body, my face, and everywhere. She held on longer this time.

When I opened my eyes, she released me and I heard her soft moan. I went to her, her face creased with pain, but she only waved me away, straightening as she slowly regained her strength.

"You can do it," she said with a quick smile. For an instant, the smile reminded me of someone else, scheming in its width, ever confident in its beam.

I focused on the sickly plant, like something a guy named Seymour tried to nurse back to health with his own blood in a dark musical comedy I saw once.

_But I'm trying to give it more than my blood; I'm trying to give it pure energy._

I tapped into the power, visualizing it inside of me, pulsating, ready to expand. I envisaged my energy pouring out onto the plant and healing it.

Once again, my fingers splayed out, controlled, and, once again, nothing happened. I tried once more—again, nothing.

I could feel the slow throb of a stress headache formulating on the left side of my skull. _Another glorious day._

"C'mon," I muttered to myself, the bright sun beaming down and droplets of sweat stinging into my eyes.

I felt Sif shift beside me while the healers watched on, patient yet unmoving and uncaring in their stillness. I was their science experiment, after all.

_Is that what I am now?_

After what must have been at least fifteen minutes, I had had enough, fearful that I would remain in the courtyard for hours, until the sun went down and torches were lit. I wasn't going to stick around for my own failure, like last time.

So I left in a hurry, running with soft padded footsteps; the clothes from Asgard never made much sound during movement, and I was grateful for that now. My long flowing garments of sky blue blended with the atmosphere above as I ran, faster than I've ever run before with this new energy inside me.

"Kaila!" I heard Sif cry behind me, but I was gone.

I wound my way through many passages within the palace, my intent to evade any people who got in my way. It helped that most of them avoided me like a plague _anyway,_ and many pressed themselves against walls, their gestures almost hyperbolic, to let me pass.

I was looking for something quiet, out of the way, and deserted.

And I found it.

The perfect spot was located down a dark hallway lined with old clocks and paintings framed in gilded gold. There were portraits of fair maidens with lyres and lutes, men wearing cloaks similar to Thor's, and madrigals singing to ladies who looked on with admiration from balconies.

I opened a door at the end of the hallway and found a simple room, not overly large, with a piano forte and scattered manuscripts spread out on stone tables. An elderly man sat, asleep from the way his head tilted to one side, and partially hidden with blankets, in a chair in the corner. The space was cool and dim and accepting. I sat at a table and took some time to steady my breath, still getting use to the feeling of the magic inside me, albeit only a small amount, running through my veins.

Only partially aware of movement from the corner of my eye, I looked up to see that I had created another double, a twin who broke away from me, sliding from my body. She automatically went to the piano, scooting forward on its bench as I used to do when I was younger. My copy glanced at me, a sad sympathetic look, and began to play.

It was a mixture of classical and jazz, some lighter songs mingling with flowing ones, even some that were original and I had never heard before. It was as if I was controlling all of her movements from far away, pulling on puppet strings to strike a chord and hear the beauty she produced.

The music calmed me, and I realized I had subconsciously soothed myself from frustration, anger, and shame. If I could not be with them—the gods—then I would find comfort in being apart, in my own world, with music.

"Is that Bach?" came a voice.

I looked up, startled slightly. The music abruptly stopped as my double looked up too, then continued. I was reminded for a moment of Lucy in _A Room With a View_: "_The kingdom of music is not the kingdom of this world."_

The owner of the slightly gruff voice was none other than the elderly man who had been snoozing in the chair. When I looked up, I noted his fine clothes, dark yellow and red, with a gold patch over his right eye. I was at once a bit terrified, and a bit embarrassed to be responsible for waking him. I had frankly forgotten that he was there.

"Yes," I said. "It's his Prelude in C minor."

"I love the music of your realm," he said wistfully. "I have listened to it for many hundreds of years. Although, I do not care much for the modern style."

I was almost too stunned to speak. Not a single Asgardian soul, save Thor and Sif, had seen the necessity of chatting me up. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps the reason this old man was snoozing in the music room was that he was a bit senile, or was just avoided by most folks, like me.

He sat opposite me and rapped his finger absent-mindedly on the table. "You have come from the healers, yes? How did it go?"

I sighed. How wonderful that my little trials and failures were common knowledge in Asgard, even to its senior citizens.

"Not so great."

"Hmm," he pondered. "Well, I would not worry too much about it. It took my eldest son several years to pluck electricity from the heavens. No doubt it took you longer than a day to perfect that Prelude?"

I smiled shyly, nodding.

He paused, and then he slowly reached out his right arm to mine. I would have been frightened if I hadn't noted the reassurance in his eye. It held a deep wisdom and authority, which rooted me to my seat. His arm stopped before touching mine, hovering over it.

"Your power is almost gone," he whispered. "Can you feel it? Concentrate."

I closed my eyes obediently and felt a slow cessation of cold fire, leaking from my fingertips, and it was no more.

My eyes opened. The piano music had stopped, and the twin vanished, waving to me whimsically before she was gone.

The older man smiled. "Shall I accompany you back to the main chambers? It is too drafty in here, I am afraid, and it is nearly time to feast for the night."

I allowed him to take my elbow, protected by fabric, and we walked back down the corridor. I could feel slow tiredness creeping over my limbs, just as they had before when I touched Loki. Though it wasn't as bad this time.

"I believe my youngest son looks after you," he said suddenly, stirring me out of my thoughts.

"Thor?" I asked, surprised.

"No, my other son," he said slowly. "Some call him the god of lies, a trickster. I fondly call him a shenanigans-inducer."

"Loki?" I gasped, beginning to realize just whom I was talking to. "But I have only seen him once in the past few weeks."

"I see," said the man, stopping. He was eyeing me carefully, as if trying to guess my next reeling thought.

"You are Odin King?" I whispered.

He laughed sharply and seemed to increase in height and stature before my eyes. Part of me imagined I was looking at Thor if he had been much older; they had the same eyes.

"Yes, I am the ruler of Asgard," he said softly. "And you must be Miss Larson."

I bowed slightly, my face growing hot. I had been playing piano for him, moping in the same room as the All Father all this time, and I had never realized it.

"What do you think of my kingdom so far?" he asked.

I struggled for words. It seemed like I had been asked that question a lot recently. "It's unlike anywhere I've been before," I eked out, biting my tongue for being laconic.

"I apologize if my people are somewhat fearful of you, Ms. Larson. We have not had a conduit here for many hundreds of years. Not since I was a boy. And that situation ended. . . badly."

"Oh, no," I said, and waved a hand. "Your hospitality has been very kind, sir. I'm just anxious to get back to earth and see my family."

Odin nodded, his eye narrowing. "Yes, Loki has much to learn from you. But, you know, I think it just might work."

With that, he was gone, his robes trailing after him down the dark hallway. I went back to my room, puzzling over what he might have possibly meant about Loki. But I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, and delighted in dreams of Bach and a field of barley speckled with poppies.

* * *

I was reading in bed the next morning when I heard a knock on my door. Expecting Sif, or perhaps Thor, I leapt up to answer it and was surprised to find a healer there instead.

He was short-ish and wore a brown hood that disguised most of his eyes from me. Although, if he was to see me, he probably would have steered clear of eye contact anyway.

"You are requested for your final test," he murmured.

"Is that so?" I said. "Even before breakfast?"

He shuffled nervously, and I could tell he hadn't caught the facetious humor in my voice.

"All right," I said, taking a handful of mints from the sweets bowl on my nightstand and popping one in my mouth before shoving the rest in my jacket pocket. "Let's go, Stan!"

The healer gave me a look that was part confusion, part annoyance, and then shuffled away. I practically had to jog to catch up with his pace as he led me lower, lower, deeper into the bowels of the palace.

"Where are we headed?" I asked, a bit breathless from the quickness, placing another mint on my tongue to delight in the way it dissolved almost instantly.

"The dungeons," came his flat response.

I paused for a moment.

"Lovely."

I hadn't seen this side of Asgard before—medieval in the sense of darkness and decay. The air was damp and a dank smell permeated its low ceilings and dripping stone walls. We walked past small jail cells, which were (fortunately) empty, heading down a narrow corridor towards a larger enclosed cell.

The healer produced a large metal key on a ring (the kind a giant would need to get into his garage) and opened the door in front of us. Darkness awaited me as he held the door open.

I wrinkled my nose at what he was expecting me to do.

"The third test is in _here?"_ I asked.

He nodded.

"And you're _not _going to lock me up for all eternity to waste away and get nibbled on by rats?"

He nodded again.

I shrugged and entered the cell, munching on another mint to distract me from the fear I started to feel. Of course, my heart was beating fast.

_Why are you so nervous?_

Maybe it was the whole being in a creepy dark dungeon thing.

Dim candles decorated a small table in the middle of the cell, as well as rested in holders that jutted out along the walls. Somewhere there was the scuffling sound of some rodent, and my stomach began to feel queasy.

I was not alone.

"Kaila?"

The sound made me jump, even though the voice was weak and somewhat afraid. I picked up a candle, moved to my left, and saw a familiar form enveloped in light.

"Sif!"

She was tied to a chair, her limbs bound with double knots. There were dark circles under her eyes and she appeared exhausted. I immediately went to her, fighting the urge to embrace her, free her, but wary of the harm my touch would cause.

"What happened?"

She smiled tiredly. "Oh, it's nothing."

I began to carefully undo the knots and ropes where they cut into her flesh, but she shook her head, sending me away."

"This is part of your last test," she said through gritted teeth.

"_This?"_

I paused for a moment, feeling the hairs rise ever so slightly along the back of my neck. In my hand, the candlelight flickered. More company? I turned around slowly and saw a row of healers, wearing dark cloaks, which covered their faces, standing in the shadows along the far wall of the jail cell.

My heartbeat quickened, and my sight suddenly blurred. What was the cause? Nerves? I stepped toward the group, placing the candle down unsteadily on the table and facing them.

"What's going on?" I said thickly, trying to focus my vision.

One of the healers stepped forward and spoke, a man's voice.

"This is your final test."

"Right. Got it," I said, blinking furiously. "But, guys, if we're doing best two out of three here, I've already lost. Can we just all go back to bed? I mean, I don't understand what else you want me to do if you know the likely outcome."

I wiped fresh sweat off my brow. What was going on? It seemed like the temperature in the cell had escalated at least twenty degrees in the past five minutes.

The healer spoke slowly. "You have been poisoned. It has already begun to affect your nervous system."

"What?!" I fumbled for the handful of mints in my pocket, my tongue tingling slightly with their chalky after taste. I looked them over—poison—and they clattered to the floor.

"You will die within ten minutes. However, you have the option to take Sif's powers to heal yourself."

I felt myself half sit, half sink, into the chair next to the table, my heart fluttering with each breath.

"And what if I do that?" I asked, already knowing what he was going to say.

"If you take enough energy to heal yourself, she may die."

Tears threatened to squeeze out of the corners of my eyes, and I felt burning twitches along my arms and back.

"Great moral dilemma here," I muttered, suddenly too tired for sarcasm. Then I turned to Sif. "I know you haven't seen this movie, but all I'm going to say is watch _Goldfinger_, 1964. James Bond. Do they expect me to talk? No, they expect me to die."

"Kaila!" Sif's voice was purposefully calm, but there was a tension in it as well, underneath the surface. "Listen to me, Kaila. I want you to take my energy. It does not matter what happens to me. Take my energy and you will not die. I am strong, and it will probably not kill me if you do this. I will be all right, and you will live."

"See," I croaked, doubling over with sudden pain, "it's the 'probably' part I'm worried about."

"Just come over here," she snapped, quite unlike herself.

Too tired to argue, I staggered to my feet and promptly fell on the floor. I slowly picked myself up again, the healers remaining motionless against the far wall. Sif was saying something to me, but the sounds were garbled and it took every effort to put one foot in front of the other.

I stood before Sif's figure, tied up, uncharacteristically helpless. Pain wracked my body and I reached out a hand, aware of just how easy it would be to make the pain go away.

"You can do it," Sif pleaded, only it wasn't Sif's voice anymore. It was Loki's.

I shook my head, confused, my sight darkening.

"I'm. . . sorry."

Falling, I huddled on the cold stone floor—its touch pleasant to my burning, feverish skin. _Waiting for death isn't so bad_, I thought. In the background, I heard screams—no—angry shouts. Something about someone needing to save me, and a name: Frigga. _Mother_, someone else said.

And then gloved hands were propping me up, and something cool slid down my throat.

Almost instantly, the pain stopped, and my heart began to slow down. Remaining sweat trickled down my face, oddly refreshing, and my eyes flicked open.

The regal woman was there, staring down at me with a kind expression on her face. She was holding me. In the background, I heard shouts—but whom did they belong to?

"And was her death to be her final test? Did she have to give her life to prove to you that she is a worthy conduit? Did not she already risk her life to save mine? I am ashamed and horrified of your actions. You call yourselves healers—"

"Peace," said the woman above me, her eyes exuding calm. Was it just me, or did she radiate a type of glow? "Peace, son. It is finished now."

I stirred slightly, my eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion.

"Rest, Kaila," said the lady. "You have done well today."


	5. The Banquet and the Deception

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters except for Kaila Larson. Wish I did!

**Chapter 5: The Banquet and the Deception**

My waking occurred in pieces. There was the regal lady again and also a shadow just beyond her. Was the shadow a healer? No, it was Sif. No, it was Thor. No, it was Loki.

I closed my eyes and opened them once again. It was still daylight, I was back in my bed, and the lady in silver was sitting beside me.

"How do you feel, child?" she asked warmly, bringing a cool cloth to my forehead.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She instantly understood my need and brought a cup of water to my lips. I drank greedily and then sank back into the softness beneath me.

"Thank you," I managed to say.

She nodded and set the cup back down. There was a pause as I shifted under the blankets and remembered everything.

"The—the poison," I began.

"Sshh," she murmured softly, but her command was sharp, and I stopped, sensing that she wished to speak first.

She adjusted the plum-colored gloves on her hands delicately. "My name is Frigga. I am Odin's wife and the mother of Thor and Loki. I have been present at your trials in Asgard and I oversaw them. You should be glad to know that you have passed."

I shook my head, a bit puzzled. "What do you mean I passed? I couldn't attempt the first two and nearly died during the third. I don't understand."

Frigga smiled, her eyes focusing on some far away point before looking back at me. "You were asked to shock the mouse. You did not—"

"I couldn't!" was my interjection.

"You would not willingly hurt a harmless creature."

I stopped. "But how did you—"

"Did you want to harm the mouse?"

I shook my head.

"And the plant," continued Frigga, "was about to die anyway. You did not heal it because you saw the waste of a gift."

"I honestly couldn't do it," I repeated.

"That told us that you would not use your powers unwisely. You saw the task as pointless and therefore would not carry it out."

I set the cup down. "And the third task?"

Frigga cocked her head to one side. "Do I need to explain it to you? You would rather die than take the life of another. You have proven that you will not harm others, use your powers worthlessly, or save yourself at the expense of another's life. These tests are what the people of Asgard needed you to pass in order for you to go back to your world."

I thought about what she had said, subtle shock washing over me. "And what if I had failed them?"

Frigga was about to speak but grew silent instead.

"That jail cell would have been my new home, right?"

The older woman stood and went to stand by the window, looking outside as if she was gazing at the past. "There was another like you, a conduit from Asgard. We did not know of her abilities until she visited another realm. The results were disastrous. She used her powers to awaken an ancient army and nearly started a war between realms in the process."

"What happened to her?"

"She was banished to an unknown world, stripped of her Asgardian energy, and bound and chained." Frigga shuddered. "Her punishment was harsh, but not as harsh as what she did, and could have done, to people who got in her way of domination. Imagine if it had involved your Earth."

I didn't _want _to imagine that type of scenario. I couldn't imagine what would happen if _any_ Asgardian decided to take over Earth—they would be nearly undefeated. My mind flashed to the thought of Earth's protectors—the Avengers—the ones I'd be meeting soon.

"Come," said Frigga, her face brightening. "Do not dwell on such things. They are in the past. You, Kaila, are our future."

But I, for the first time, was starting to realize the importance of my powers. Suddenly, all of these recent trials and adventures didn't seem so random anymore.

"That mud monster didn't crash into the café I was studying in by accident, did he?" I asked quietly. "He was after me."

Frigga's eyes widened, then she nodded.

"The mud. . ." I began.

"The mud acted as a barrier," she finished for me. "The creature was aware of who you were. We suspect that he had been paid to collect you."

"Paid by whom?" I asked with a shiver.

"We do not know yet," Frigga replied. "The creature and others of his kind have gone into hiding on Vanaheim."

I got up from my bed, arms folded into my waist, suddenly sick. The realization that there might be other possible attempts to kidnap me left me feeling unsettled and terribly vulnerable.

"Do not worry so, Kaila," came the Queen's steady voice. "You are protected here on Asgard, and will be protected on Midgard as well. You will be surrounded by the greatest defenders your world, and ours, has to offer."

Her kind words lessened my anxiety, and I nodded, lost in my own thoughts again until I turned around to find the lady holding up a violet-colored gown.

"What is this?" I asked, drawing nearer to her.

"There is a banquet and ball tonight in honor of a group of warriors who have recently returned from battle on a distant realm. Odin King and I would love it if you came."

Once the shock wore off, I found myself nodding giddily. "Of course!" I took the gown from her and held it up to myself—it was the perfect size.

"I'm going to feel like an elf!" I exclaimed and immediately backtracked when I noted Frigga's alarmed expression. "Oh, not dark elves. I was thinking more along the lines of Middle Earth. . ."

Her alarm changed to puzzlement.

"Never mind," I said. "Thank you. Will Thor be there?"

"Thor is still busy making final preparations for your return to Earth, but Sif will be there."

"Sif!" I had not seen her since that morning. The memory of her tied and broken in that chair made me wince. "I will have to thank her."

Frigga embraced me with a quick hug. "She will appreciate that." Then she went to the door, turned around as if to tell me something, thought better of it, smiled, and waved goodbye.

* * *

Before the banquet that evening, I ran my fingers through my hair, which flowed wild and untamed in Asgard without any chemicals to keep the curls in check. I was just about to give up on it and slip into my gown when I heard a knock at the door. Two servant girls entered as I opened it.

I was a bit shocked because, for one, Odin had never sent servants directly to my quarters before, and, for another, these girls were actually looking at me—in the eyes.

"Hello," I said a bit shyly, and they bobbed their heads at me. I noticed that they wore gloves and long sleeves, which covered their arms.

Without another word, they were busy getting me ready. They slipped the dress over my head, purple and flowing, and then they set me in a chair. One began attacking my hair with a thick brush that untangled the knots, while the other plucked and tweezed excess hairs from my face and brows. Next came the make-up—a soft lavender accentuated my eyes, and they applied a dark berry-stain for my lips. Powder dusted my face, making it glow like porcelain. After the make-up, one of the girls opened the vanity drawers and produced a fine silver bracelet and a necklace featuring an opal that glowed like the moon. Once these jewels adorned my skin, I finally felt every inch a worthy reveler to join the ball.

_Just like Cinderella._

But the servants weren't quite done. They held up a medium-sized box, I opened it, and I paused with pleasure for a moment before picking up two pearl-white gloves. It was a pleasant gesture, to wear an accessory that would help me in case I forgot my unique nature in public. For the first time, I saw these gloves as a mark of exceptionality and not something that would separate me or cause scandal. I slipped them on without hesitation, and they felt smooth and cool against my skin.

When the servant girls had finished primping and polishing my looks, they stepped back and beamed.

"We hope you have a lovely night," one of them said. Then they curtseyed deeply.

I thanked them for their help and proceeded to the banquet. Something was different, beginning with the way other Asgardians and guests of the palace acknowledged me, bowing their heads.

"Conduit," some of them murmured, as if it was my new title. Maybe it was, and it felt strange, but at the same time, it was nice to be noticed. Basic human contact, at last!

And then I was at the banquet and my breath was temporarily stolen away. The grand hall was adorned with golden banners, and people were feasting and dancing to the madrigal music echoing throughout the area.

The food was lavishly spread out along each grand table, a selection of fine dishes—slabs of roasted pork and sides of beef (at least, I thought it looked like beef). I couldn't be sure exactly _what _species were being consumed. Most of the side dishes were slightly familiar, but they would have one or two odd differences. For example, blue-colored radishes and turquoise lettuce in giant salad bowls. I felt my mouth watering, not having had anything to eat all day, but I looked for familiar faces first.

Odin and Frigga sat in enormous golden chairs towards the back and center of the hall, nearly obscured by the large silver goblets and heaps of food before them. Odin was wearing a glimmering coat of bronze armor, and Frigga wore a dress with so many jewels that she was dazzling to look upon. I spotted Sif sitting at a table for the distinguished warriors recently returned from battle and dashed over to sit with her.

"Sif!" I called. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Yes?" she said, her eyes searching to pick me out of the crowd, and then she seemed confused. All of the conversation at her table abruptly ceased, and I froze.

"I-I just wanted to say th-thank you for helping me earlier," I stammered.

"What do you mean?" Sif asked darkly, frowning. Her voice seemed different—colder and gruffer. "I have never seen you before."

I stiffened, backing away, my world suddenly thrown off. "It-It's me. Kaila."

"I do not know who you are, Midgardian," said Sif. "Is this some kind of practical joke?"

I shook my head, blinking back tears as the party of warriors burst into laughter. Once again, I was the outcast, the one who stood out when all I wanted was to blend in.

I ran.

I ran from the banquet hall, my gloved hands covering my eyes, tears streaking down my cheeks. I ran away from the echoing laughter, the embarrassment, and the shame. Just like after the second test, I ran until I found a quiet corner.

It was a bench outside in an open breezeway, not unlike the one I woke up to in my first non-feverish morning in Asgard. The place where I sank down was facing a beautiful view of the kingdom in the evening. Green vines curled behind my back, growing along a stone wall, a water fountain trickled delicate wisps of water nearby in spirals, and I could admire the stars shining brightly in contrast with the night sky.

I looked down at my tear-streaked gloves, now smeared with make-up as well, and spray from the nearby fountain washed my face, like a dog's wet kiss. It brought me back to myself, and I took a deep breath.

Staring at the sky, I wished that someday the people of Asgard would love and appreciate me as much as I loved their beloved realm.

"Do not cry, Kaila."

I jumped slightly, shaken with the sudden familiar voice. I looked up, drying my eyes, to find—

"Sif!"

I couldn't believe it, but she was there, although she wore a differently colored dress than before, and she looked. . . She looked. . .

One moment, Sif stood beside me, then she grinned and her form changed, shifting soundlessly into another form—into Loki!

"I don't understand," I said, catching my breath. "Do you mean that. . ." I lost my voice, dumbfounded at the notion.

"I was Sif the entire time," Loki said with a nod of encouragement. "I took her form while she was away."

I brushed his hand aside when he bent to help me to my feet. I needed to stay seated for a moment, letting my shock dissolve. Soon afterwards, I felt the burn of anger.

"You tricked me. Why?"

"I am a trickster," he said slowly, as if I had missed something. "That, my dear, is what I _do_."

Then I was on my feet, clumping away from him in a huff, my face red-hot. From one embarrassment to the next—I was on a roll.

"Kaila!" Loki chased after me. "Wait!"

I stopped by the sparkling fountain and whipped around. "I thought that Sif was my friend. I thought _she_ actually cared about me. And now I find out that it was all a bunch of lies? How is that supposed to make me feel?"

Loki cringed slightly and his grin vanished. When he spoke again, his voice was low and serious. "I—I _had_ to disguise myself, Kaila. I had to hide myself to show you my true nature. Thor might have warned you about me, or told you lies about my past, and I had to find a way for you to get to know me without the burden of my own countenance."

I took a deep breath again. Whatever long-held feud between the brothers, why would Loki suspect that Thor would speak ill of him? The very idea of the god of thunder spreading untruths was laughable, but I didn't reveal my thoughts to Laufeyson.

"You do realize that what you're saying is chock-full of oxymorons?"

Loki stiffened.

The meaningful conversations I had with Loki as Sif—of music, literature, philosophy, and cuisine—passed through my mind. I thought of all the times he had been with me through my various trials, supporting and helping me. Even if I didn't know it was really him, didn't all those moments still count?

I looked at his face, eyes dark with worry. Worried about what? That I might be angry and rebuke our friendship? No, he had revealed himself to me because he had caused me pain.

"Forgive me?" he whispered, a fleeting question.

I stepped closer to him. "I take it that these are words you don't speak often."

He bowed his head in affirmation.

"I forgive you," I said gently, inches from his face. "But, Loki, you must promise to never disguise yourself again to me. Do you swear it?"

His eyes were cold and clear—maybe even a bit scared—but he nodded. "I swear."

There was a moment of silence and then Loki held out his hand tentatively to me. Faint music drifted outside from the great hall.

"Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

Still a bit amazed from the rush of conflicting emotions I just experienced, I relented and accepted his hand.

"Dancing sounds great, but could we eat first? Kinda starving."

Loki let out a breath, the tension broken. "By all means. I had quite forgotten."

Then I took his hand and we were walking together. As we walked, I took a moment to admire his posture and mien. Every movement was purposeful, every gesture and footstep were executed with purpose. I found my hand gripping his tighter as we entered the banquet, nervous. I had a right to be—all eyes were on us.

The crowd hushed. Loki bowed curtly at everyone, greeting the silence with aplomb.

"Sorry we are late. Had to pull this one away from the fountain and the moonlight and all that nonsense. Think Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg in _La Dolce Vita_ by the Trevi Fountain."

There were crickets in the crowd.

"No one admires Fellini?"

I squeezed Loki's hand tighter.

"So, carry on, everybody. Sorry for the interruption." Then he cupped a hand in front of his mouth and called, "Sorry for impersonating you for a week, Sif!"

At the warrior's table, Sif looked up with shock on her face that quickly dissolved to moderate annoyance, and she made a less-than-friendly hand gesture at the god of mischief.

Loki clucked his tongue at that and steered us to a table. Under his breath I heard him mutter, "How many more apologies will I make tonight? I mean, _really_."

He took a chair and pulled it out for me to sit on. I felt like I was at the Senior Prom again. We ate mostly in silence. I tried to be polite and not stuff my face despite being ravenous, but my nerves also helped me eat slowly. Loki occasionally picked out a specific dish or ladled some broth into a cup for me to try.

Slowly, other Asgardians began to wander over to our table, either out of curiosity or general politeness. It was Loki's father's feast, after all. And people I may have brushed past once or twice without meeting their eyes now spoke to me, congratulating me on my newly found abilities, wishing me good fortune for the future. It was all a bit fake, but at least it was a start.

While I was nibbling on a piece of nutty-flavored cheese, I heard Loki scoff beside me.

"What is it?" I asked quietly.

"All these _fine_ people" he said, "would never _look_ at you yesterday, and now they want to know everything about you."

"Because I'm sitting with a prince of Asgard."

"Because you are a Conduit, and you are not a maniac," he spat. Then, softer, he said, "I was not lying earlier when I told you that I am also an outcast here. Not for being a woman, obviously, but for being different."

I couldn't argue with him there. In terms of looks and background, Loki couldn't have been more dissimilar than the others on Asgard.

"I thought you were like them too," I said, almost not thinking before I spoke.

Loki turned to me, stern. "How so?"

"When I first arrived and I was injured, you thought of me as an. . . anomaly. You seemed angry at me because I hurt you in the swamp. And then, that day in the courtyard, I wanted to talk with you, but you ran away."

Loki's head bowed deeply, and I was surprised at his response. "I was ashamed to be in your presence after treating you so unkindly. Forgive me, Kaila. Again, forgive me."

"I forgive you," I said again. "What changed?"

Loki looked away, lost in thought. "When you were ill, I grew accustomed to you. . . I—I felt responsible, knowing that I had not gotten to you in time before the kidnapping—"

"But you didn't know about that," I argued.

"True. And yet, I felt that I should have realized the situation before you were taken. I found peace in caring for you later, and my past anger at your simple mistake faded away."

I went to take his hand, but he flinched reflexively, and I withdrew.

Loki then took my hand. "Sorry, Kaila." He chuckled softly, tilting his head to one side. "So many apologies tonight!"

"It's all right," I said, trying not to laugh at his indignation.

"Well, you _did_ almost kill me with a handshake," he added, and then stood up, offering a palm. "Would you dance with me?"

I accepted, not fully convinced of his apologies, for some reason. How could I completely trust a man who had disguised himself as another, who had used another's likeness to draw out my own secrets? But at the same time, there was something irresistible about him. When he smiled at me, it was a genuine smile, not a gleaming trickster's grin. I was beginning to tell the difference between those two. He spoke seriously with me as we danced, his eyes hopeful.

Others watched us on the dance floor as a new song began. I was timid—a terrible dancer—and especially afraid because I was unaccustomed to his older style of dancing. I stepped hesitantly at first, but then grew confident. Loki was a natural dancer, and he led our movements fluidly, with grace.

The rest of the evening was like a dream. We whirled on the dance floor, spinning, and eventually joined by other dancers. The night moved on and I was swept away, held fast by Loki's firm grasp, made new by the light in his eyes as he snuck a furtive glance at me, then a steady gaze. After that, he never looked away.

Eventually, Loki led me outside of the ball, sensing my fatigue from the day's events; I couldn't stop yawning. It had only been eighteen hours ago, after all, that I had been dying from poison. He held my hand all of the way back to my room, bowing low before the entrance, his hand across his chest.

He was speaking to me, something about a wonderful evening. My mouth was probably hanging open the entire time, and then I was mumbling thanks. Before I knew it, the pillows and blankets were rushing up to meet me, and I was asleep.

In the morning, I opened my door and he was there again, bowing. Gasping, I greeted him with a sleepy curtsy.

Loki averted his eyes. "I—I know we only just saw each other last night, but I thought you might like some breakfast."

I beamed and nodded. "Of course I do."

* * *

The rest of the week passed as marvelously as only the best vacation could. I was greeted and admired everywhere I went, and Loki was always in my company, either at my side, or looking at me from a short distance. No, it was _more_ than looking. There was a healthy amount of admiration in his gaze, and a kind of protectiveness I'd never felt before, even from Thor.

The god of thunder visited me once before the departure and Loki kept his distance. I couldn't help wondering about their relationship through the entire conversation—what was the cause of its bitterness, exactly? Thor was all smiles with me, as usual, seeming not to realize how much Loki was avoiding his contact.

As he was talking to me, I noticed Loki slip quietly away, and I motioned to go after him, feeling strange to _not _be in his presence for once, when Thor caught my arm gently.

"Are the rumors in the court true? Am I to have a sister-in-law soon?"

My jaw must have hit the floor, because Thor rapidly backtracked. "That is—er—you two have been spending a great deal of time together and—"

"Nothing has been set in stone," I softly interrupted.

"Oh," said Thor, deflated. "But you are, I take it, in a courtship?"

I couldn't hold back my smile at his old-fashioned sweetness. "Not that I'm aware of. We haven't even talked about it yet."

"I see." Thor's eyes kept flicking back to where Loki disappeared, looking as if he wanted to give his brother a swift kick in the pants. "Well, I would encourage him, but I am afraid he does not listen to me anymore, if he ever did. But—forgive me, Kaila. I did not take into account your opinion on the subject, and I would be remiss to intrude—"

"Thor," I said gently, "I like him. I like Loki very much."

Thor nodded, bowed quickly, and walked away, but his grin as he left was infectious, and I found myself glowing with my released secret.

* * *

**A/N: **So I'm going to amp up the romance in the next few chapters. This one was my _Pride and Prejudice_ chapter. Just couldn't resist some Loki/dancing. The next one will start with a similar tone, and then we'll finally get back to Earth and _a lot_ will change for Kaila. For those who have been curious, I got the idea for Kaila's "gift" partly from Rogue, but mainly from an Original Star Trek episode called "The Empath." If you haven't seen it, check it out. Way melodramatic and awesome. Thanks for your reviews, as always. Hope you enjoy!


	6. The Bridge and the Green-Eyed Monster

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters except for Kaila Larson. Wish I did!

**Chapter 6: The Bridge and the Green-Eyed Monster**

It was my last full day on Asgard. The following day, Thor would accompany me back to Earth—to New York—where I would undergo tests and training at Avenger's Headquarters. I was feeling a bit anxious at the thought of returning to Earth, not only to start a new chapter in my life but to leave Loki behind.

I had woken and opened my door to find the hallway empty. At first, my hope sank a little, having expected Loki there as he had been to greet me the past several days.

However, when I placed a foot outside the entrance, my slipper jostled a green slip of paper in front of the door. I picked it up and eagerly read the secret note, its message written with beautiful calligraphy in bright gold ink.

_Your favorite meal is break the fast._

_Select the scone that's second to last._

Well, it wasn't quite a riddle. But, then again, I had only just gotten up, and Loki knew that. The important thing was that it was a game—and the enjoyment of puzzles was one thing the two of us had in common.

I dashed to the breakfast hall in my blue robe and fuzzy slippers, attracting several strange looks from other Asgardians along the way, but I didn't mind. I was on a quest to get a scone.

Trying to be as quiet as possible while I waited in line for the buffet in the dining hall, I took a plate and glanced eagerly at the selection of dishes. Then—a slight hesitancy. There were three different types of scones being served that morning. Which one would it be?

As my turn came, I slid the plate along the table, contemplating the options. Ham and cheese was a no. Loki knew that I was vegetarian. I looked closer. Blueberry and maple pecan. _Think, think._

Then it made sense. I had been eating a maple pecan scone the afternoon that Loki crashed into my life. That had to be the one. I picked up the second to last scone in the row and settled down at the table. Attracting several odd looks, I'm sure, even though I was trying to be inconspicuous, I ripped into the scone with my bare hands. Pieces of pastry crumbled onto my plate as I mashed into the center of the still-warm scone. My hands fumbled with the crumbs until I found something solid in the middle. Peeling dough off it, I was left with a tiny stone in my hand. I inspected it carefully, mimicking Sherlock Holmes, calculating its size and purpose. It appeared to be a chip of white marble.

White marble…

Where had I seen white marble before?

The smell of old books and the glow of candlelight came back to me.

The library!

Without pausing, I leapt out of my seat and sprinted down the corridors, dodging other shocked Asgardians as I ran. The library was cool and, fortunately, empty when I arrived. Gliding past rows of bookshelves, I clutched the smooth marble stone in my hand, like it was the key to an ancient secret.

When I reached some of the large reading desks, I noticed an aberration. One enormous book was left out, open. A long sliver of green paper acted as a bookmark, and I noticed that it was the same paper as the note I had picked up earlier.

Leaning over in delight, I spied two lines of text standing out on a single page.

_There are always flowers_

_For those who want to see them_

_ -Henri Matisse_

I had barely flicked the book closed, and I was headed for the flower garden. There was definitely a pattern—I was re-tracing the steps of my three tests for the healers. Shuddering, I just hoped the last clue wouldn't lead me to the dungeons. For the moment, however, I was out in the bright sunshine, searching through plots and pots of flowers to find something—anything—that stuck out. My search led me to a large bush of light pink tea roses that looked like they had been recently plucked. In fact, only a single flower blossomed on the bush, and attached to the solitary rose was another green note.

_Follow me until you find __me__._

_Looking Only Kindles Intrigue._

I stared at the page, the capital letters swirling around my eyesight.

LOKI!

And before me, in a stream of blushing amaranth pink, were rose petals on the ground, delicately forming a pathway out of the garden and along the inside of the palace walls. I followed the petal trail at a rapid pace, down stone steps into a wooded area I had never been before, as if Odin had allowed the forest to spread onto palace grounds just for its grandeur.

My slippered feet glided over soft moss and grass, and I heard the gentle bubbling of a small stream. The petals led me to a scene out of Monet's "Water-Lily Pond"—a small white walking bridge over the stream in the middle of the fledgling forest. The petals reached to the middle of the bridge and then stopped abruptly. There I waited, looking over the railing at the clear brook below when my eyes caught an object sparkling on a rock in the middle of the water.

Curiously, I walked across the bridge to the other side, searched for a stick with a suitable length, and fished for the shiny object, eventually catching it and carefully drawing it in. I extracted the object from the branch, tossing the stick away, astonished by what I now held in my hands.

It was a silver bracelet with three charms that dangled from its metal loops—a book, pages fluttering open, a rose, and a triangular shape that appeared to be a scone.

"I thought to present you with a fitting gift for your time here," came his smooth voice, "as a memento."

I looked up, not surprised at all to find Loki standing beside me.

"Thank you!" I cried, clasping it around my left wrist. "It's so lovely."

Loki's expression, nearly always difficult to read, became impassive. There was a thin smile, followed by determination.

"Then again, you would never need to think of it as a memento if you stay."

My eyes flashed to his. "What do you mean?"

He leaned in closer. "Stay in Asgard. Stay with me."

My heart began beating faster with this new revelation. It made me wonder if the god of lies' statement had been nothing more than a trick.

"Loki, I love it here, but you must understand that I need to see my family and friends again. I couldn't imagine never returning to Earth."

"They will run more tests on you," he said, eyes squinting with barely-contained rage. "They will treat you like a laboratory experiment and you will never be free. You will never be free to return, to see me."

"Come with _me, _then," I said. "You're part of the Avengers, after all."

At that moment, Loki leaned in to kiss me, as if to stop my words, but then hesitated, and took my hand tenderly instead. I moved back reflexively, but he pressed into me. Then came the familiar chill, the power spreading through my limbs—only more so this time. He held onto me a bit longer than he ever had before…

"Stop." I removed my hand from his grasp, light-headed. Before me, Loki grimaced, kneeling.

When I joined him on the ground, desperate to see that he was all right, he beamed back, offering a hand. "Again?"

I shook my head, astounded. "Are you crazy? I'm not going to kill you."

"I highly doubt _that_ would happen," he said. "Just one more time?"

The power was stirring inside me, unpredictable. I shook my head again. "No! I don't understand why you want me to cause you pain."

Loki shrugged. "I kind of… enjoy it."

This statement was so mind-boggling that I wasn't sure what to say immediately. I had to think for a moment and gather my composure. The gravity of what he said intrigued and frightened me at the same time.

"Come with me back to Earth. Maybe they can help me or… fix me. Maybe we can be together. I—I don't enjoy causing you pain, even in tiny amounts, and I don't want to experiment with your magic when I'm not even sure how to control it yet."

Loki at first seemed disappointed, then his eyes brightened, and he pointed at my wrist.

The charm bracelet was glowing faintly, radiating my newly acquired energy and shining like the sun.

"Of course, I will go with you," he said, bringing a hand to my face and hovering it centimeters above my cheek. "I would go anywhere to be with you. Even when you are wearing pink slippers."

I laughed, pushing him slightly. As he walked me back to the palace, I held the glowing jewelry to my heart, shining with energy, like a spark, mysterious and excited for the future.

* * *

My fourth time through a portal was much easier. Odin and Frigga bid me a safe journey and entreated me to visit them as soon as possible.

In between Loki and Thor, I felt incredibly safe, and I was looking forward to seeing Earth again. Heimdall, the gatekeeper, even gave me a rare wink as we passed by with his permission. I turned back to admire the glimmering Bifrost once more, and then Thor and Loki held onto me, we stepped into the blue light, and—

I was standing in front of a tall building on a busy street. Horns honked and people walking by us had mixtures of astonishment, fear, and annoyance on their faces. Some stopped and pointed at our trio while others sidestepped us and just kept walking.

"Thor! All _right_!" came an enthusiastic voice as a teenager stepped out of the crowd and gave the Asgardian a righteous high-five. Thor beamed back, then looked at us and shrugged.

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes at the display. "Welcome to New York."

It was then I realized just how tall and grand Thor and Loki were compared to Midgardians like me. Having been surrounded by them for a few weeks made me forget how small humans were in comparison.

I turned my attention to the building in front of us. It said in crisp blue letters: Avengers Headquarters. I also noticed a cardboard sign stuck near the entrance, which read: (Formally Stark Tower). Thor reached up and ripped it down affectionately.

"Stark is a humorous individual," he mumbled, and we went inside.

Once past reception, Thor used a key card to get us on an elevator that seemed to go up ten stories in two seconds. _Like the turbo lifts on Star Trek,_ I thought. When the doors opened, I expected to meet Kirk and Spock and McCoy.

I met a group of Avengers instead.

Instinctively, I gave Loki's arm a brief squeeze. When I looked up at him, he revealed a rare smile and nudged me forward.

They had been ready to welcome us, I realized. I had seen their pictures in the newspapers and on TV, but they had all been wearing their costumes. Without elaborate outfits, they looked, well, sort of normal.

It put me at ease. Normal was what I needed right now. Normal was good.

"Hey!" A fresh-faced lady with long brown hair immediately ran to Thor and threw her arms around him. Thor's entire demeanor changed with her embrace, and he softened.

"Jane, how I have missed you!"

When she finally let him go, Thor presented the lady I assumed had to be Jane Foster to me. Just like she had with Thor, Jane pulled me into a close hug.

"I'm so glad to meet you! Thor has told me so much. I got the team together, but we're short on Tony and Pepper. They had a press junket of some kind to go to, or an interview, or an award show…" She paused, looking plainly confused. "I forget."

"With Tony, it's probably all three," said a tall man with a kind smile and glasses who walked forward and shook my hand. "Bruce Banner."

I introduced myself, trying not to appear shy, but it was difficult not to act shy in front of the Incredible Hulk.

Two others stepped forward next. They were courteous, but not overly enthusiastic, and both seemed to be glancing coldly in Loki's direction. Natasha Romanoff was a dazzling woman—I couldn't quite take my eyes off her wavy red hair and green eyes. She wore a sleek black suit that matched her partners'—Clint Barton. He muttered a brief "Hello," and then walked off with Natasha, whispering something in her ear.

I had heard the most about the last person in the group; he was on the news practically every night. Aside from Iron Man, he was the most public super hero, the head of the Avengers. I knew him best wearing red, white, and blue, but now he wore a faded brown leather jacket and jeans. The contrast was strangely endearing.

"Ms. Larson," said Steve Rogers warmly. "It's great to meet you. Sorry we couldn't give you a better welcome. We're a little disorganized around here sometimes."

His blue eyes widened, and his grip was strong and comforting. Did his cheeks color a bit when he let go of my hand? I felt myself begin to blush too, again so shy, and I wanted to turn away. Being in the presence of these outrageously beautiful people was beginning to make me feel a bit redundant.

"Let us know how we can accommodate you better, and please don't hesitate to contact me."

I nodded furiously as he smiled a stars-don't-shine-this-bright smile and walked away.

Thor brought me back to reality. "Jane will show you to your room and we will see you at the festivities tonight, no doubt."

"You all live here?" I exclaimed. The very idea seemed so charming and 1963-ish.

Jane shook her head. "I have my own place, but the others stay here. Most are always in the process of coming from (and going to) missions, like Thor. I'll show you around Headquarters, get you settled, and then we have a bit of shopping to do."

"Can Loki come too?" I asked, excitedly grabbing for his arm behind me, but my hand met thin air. I whirled around, and Loki was gone.

"He was right here…" I began.

"Yes," said Thor grimly. "He tends to do that."

I was a bit disappointed, then I realized that Loki probably wouldn't have enjoyed an afternoon of shopping anyway.

"You'll see him tonight at the party," said Jane, attempting to cheer me up. She took my arm and stirred me away. Thor had taken her hand and kissed it before we left, and I felt my heart flutter once with envy. The _contact_.

As the rest of the Avengers attended meetings or training sessions, Jane gave me a key card like the one Thor had used, and she showed me to my room. It was a Spartan space, sleek and futuristic, with silver furniture and a small, yet comfortable, bed. I had no baggage to unpack and had taken nothing with me from Asgard, save the bracelet Loki had given me.

Jane explained how S.H.I.E.L.D. had created a cover for me, that my identity was securely hidden, and that my finances were being cared for. S.H.I.E.L.D. had even arranged for my professors to give me my final exams sometime in the summer so that I would have time to study. As I listened to Jane, I noticed how detail-oriented she was and how sharp her vocabulary too. The woman was smart—in a _Big Bang Theory_ sort of way—and she wasn't afraid to hide it. Foster exchanged quips with JARVIS around the building like a pro. The more I listened to her, the more I began to like her.

The rest of the day rushed by. I had lunch with Jane at a raw foods café, and she asked me a million questions about Seattle, then we went shopping to get a dress for me for the party later that night. Tony was having some kind of celebration to mark the latest clean energy technology he was putting out on the market. I got a plain little black number that I looked "fantastic" (Jane's words), and I wondered what Loki would think about it. I felt anxious that he wasn't with me. Having spent the majority of the last several days in his company, the thought briefly flashed in my mind that I should never have asked Loki to come with me back to Earth. Not if he was going to react around everyone the way he acted around Thor.

"Does Loki dance?" Jane mumbled in my ear as we stopped to look at shoes.

"Oh yes," I said.

Jane made a "stop joking right now" face.

"I'd love to see that."

I smiled at her and made a mental note to address the issue of avoiding company with Loki at the party that night. Hopefully he would give me some answers.

* * *

Jane squeezed my arm when we returned to the tower. "Let me know if you want to head out early. Tony's parties can go on for _ages_."

I nodded and began the evening with Jane and Thor, but eventually we got separated, and I wandered off in search of Loki, or another cocktail, or both. He was supposed to meet me a half-hour into the party, according to Thor. I kept checking my watch, but there was no sign of him.

The ambience was overwhelming. Metal music was blasting from a set of Signature Titan speakers, making the room buzz. Was that AC/DC? I tried not to stand out in the plain black dress that probably cost less than the socks of the waiter handing me another drink.

Speaking of drinks, how many had I had already? Was it four? I should have stopped at three. Why was I doing this? Was it because I felt inadequate around all of these super heroes and their friends? Or was it because I felt suddenly horribly alone?

Oh, where was Loki when you needed him?

I brushed against another guest and apologized profusely. Twenty seconds later, I realized that I had been saying sorry to _Johnny Depp_.

That was the last straw. I parked myself in a relatively quiet corner and decided not to move until Loki arrived, or the gathering was over, or a giant colossus crashed the whole thing.

_Hey, it's a Tony Stark party._ Anything was possible.

Sipping at my pink cosmo daintily, I scanned the crowd, searching for Avengers. Steve had left early (something about getting some extra work done), and Bruce was sitting by himself, nursing a whiskey at the bar. Natasha and Clint were doing shots with a rowdy group, and Thor and Jane were busy chatting up other couples. In that moment, I envied Jane. She was a brilliant scientist who could probably hold her own in a conversation with Stephen Hawking. And Thor was…Thor. Without his armor, he appeared as a regular guy (albeit buff). It was obvious how much he loved Jane from how he acted around her. Thoughts of Thor immediately made me think about Loki, and I realized how lucky Loki was to have a brother like him. Why couldn't they just get along?

"It looks like you're in need of rescuing," came a voice in my ear.

I gasped, nearly spilling my drink, but a steady hand stopped me.

Tony Stark looked at me over the top of red-tinted sunglasses. "'Cause I'm Iron Man, after all. Billionaire, super-hero, genius, playboy, etcetera, and so on."

I blushed in spite of myself.

_Way to go, Kaila. First time to meet Stark, and you can't even keep it together._

"Kaila Larson," I said softly. "English major."

Stark actually smiled, and he swept my hand up in a dramatic gesture, kissing it. "The pleasure is all mine. Having fun?"

I nodded, but Tony must have picked up on how out-of-place I felt. He took my hand again and scanned the crowd.

"Pepper is somewhere around here. I wanted you to meet her."

As he ordered another Scotch, I downed my drink, fidgeting nervously, unsure of what to say. Before I realized what was going on, he had wrapped an arm around me.

"So you're the one who zaps Loki's powers?"

I turned to Tony, slightly dizzy, nodding. "Anyone from another realm."

"And how is that working out for you?" Tony asked, deadpan. "I mean, aren't you two an item?"

Suddenly, I was on the offensive. How in the world did _he_ know? "Nothing is official yet."

"Yeah, but that must be kinda weird, right?" said Tony, waving at another guest off-hand. "Not being able to touch him and all that. What does Shakespeare-in-the-park think?"

It took me a few moments to realize that Stark was referring to Thor.

"I don't know… He seems happy for us, but…"

"Yeah, I knew it," said Tony under his breath. "Listen, sweet heart, I want to caution you about potential Pandora's boxes and other things concerning your god of mischief."

"Okay," I said, the rhythm of the music beating in time with my heart.

"Loki destroyed Manhattan this time last year. And he usually isn't on speaking terms with his dear stepbrother. I mean, what with the stabbing and all."

A part of my mind went dark. "What...?"

"Loki. Shanked. Thor. Look it up. It was in the papers. Loki's technically part of the Avengers, but Nick Fury has him on notice."

"I…I don't know what to say."

Tony gave my arm a squeeze and he sighed. "I'm sorry, rookie. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you should know what you're getting into."

Suddenly, I felt cold, as if I was trapped in frigid water underneath a sheet of ice. Tony could sense my thoughts and changed his tune.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Kaila! Don't let this ruin your night. Look—" He searched his pockets and fiddled with a golden device, finally revealing it to me. Whatever it was, it glowed a reddish-purple in the center. Without noting the unusual brightness of its colors, it looked like an ordinary pendant on an ordinary necklace.

"This is an experimental vessel of Asgardian power Bruce and I have been tinkering with this past week. We think that it could give you the same energy Thor has, similar to when you touched Loki. It could be a great tool, Kaila."

I didn't have time to speak before he put it around my neck, and I felt a familiar drone buzz in my ears. The lights at the party suddenly became twice as bright, and I felt the inevitable invincibility overwhelm my senses, akin to when I grabbed Loki's hand for the first time. Only this power was different—it was like comparing vodka to tequila in terms of the burn. I started laughing, gaining self-confidence faster than the snap of Stark's fingers.

"Oh, Tony," I gushed, patting his shoulder. "You don't have to worry about Loki and me. We have a…common understanding when it comes to power."

With that, I waved my hand and all of the lights burst in the vicinity. Sharp cries rang out and Tony flinched beside me. I couldn't stop laughing, the whirl of the alcohol colliding with the sudden unstoppable strength rolling through me in waves. This _was_ different than before…

"Kaila!"

The sharp tone quieted me fast. Loki's gloved hand grabbed my wrist tightly, and the lights came back on. I could sense Natasha and Clint closely watching us, ready to move in for a possible attack. At the bar, Bruce had turned around, ready to fight too. I felt everyone's eyes on me, my heart beating rapidly, as if ready to explode out of my chest. The power inside me hummed.

My eyes locked with his green ones, taken aback. I read anger, betrayal, and—perhaps worst of all—embarrassment in his gaze. I suddenly recalled a line from _Othello_ about a green-eyed monster, a euphemism for jealousy.

"What are you doing?" he fumed, glaring at Tony beside me, who gave him a wide berth.

Thor was approaching, and I could sense that Loki didn't want _any_ interaction with his brother at this moment.

"I—I'm sorry, Loki," I said through a stammer.

Under his breath, he hissed, "You were _flirting_ with him."

My mind whirled. "I don't know what you're talking about. We were just—"

"I saw you two together, laughing."

"Loki—" Thor interrupted, getting closer. "Calm down."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Loki spat at him.

"Hey, folks, I was just showing Ms. Larson a new toy Bruce and I had been working on." Tony's voice seemed smaller, apologetic, and even a tinge fearful.

"Brother," said Thor. "You mustn't be jealous. Nothing happened. Kaila was in my sight the entire time."

"Excuse me—" I began.

"Oh really, _brother_?" Loki said, his face creased with anger. He looked like a different person. "And were you just going to let them walk away together and—"

A beautiful woman with bright red hair walked over to our group quickly, putting a supportive hand behind Tony's back. It was Pepper Potts, of course. "What's going on?"

Tony shrugged. "Reindeer Games is jealous."

At this, Loki turned on Stark like a wild animal, raising his hand as if to cover him in ice.

And then I turned my attention to Loki and a fountain of energy rippled from my fingertips, connecting with his body. He registered a shock of surprise before being knocked off his feet, crashing into the back wall. Screams resonated throughout the party as guests began rapidly filing out.

I stood firmly, breathing in and out. Quietly, with much regret, Pepper removed the pendant from around my neck. She pinched Tony, and he mumbled an apology.

"I never thought she would _freak_ out, Pepper," Tony said quietly as Ms. Potts led him away.

As soon as the necklace was removed, I felt an immediate sap in my strength. The effects of the alcohol were wearing off also, and I found myself standing alone, completely exposed and miserable.

Thor was attending to Loki, helping his brother up. Loki shrugged him off, sneering. I couldn't tell what they were saying to each other.

A crowd of people stared at me. Natasha and Clint still stood at the ready, Bruce beside them. How ironic that the monster crashing the party had turned out to be me.

Humiliated, I ran. I sprinted towards the nearest elevator and punched the "down" button at least ten times before it _dinged._ As the elevator descended, my stomach folded in on itself and I began to shake. I knew that it was more than the drinks; I was starting to experience withdrawals from the Asgardian power again, just like I had with Loki's magic.

Forcing my limbs to cooperate, I staggered out of the Avenger's headquarters, and ran down the street. I had no idea where I was going, just that I wanted to get as far away from Tony Stark and Loki and all of the other super heroes as possible. Trembling, I thought back to the bridge in Asgard only the day before, where I was content and at peace, when Loki had promised a future with me. How far away that happiness seemed now—only a distant memory that I was doomed to compare with today's misery.

I made it as far as three blocks before the shaking became unbearable. My feet were covered in blisters from running in high heels and I was quaking from the chill of the evening. Watching my breath come out in erratic puffs before me, I escaped down an alleyway, burying myself between two garbage bins, and convinced that I was about to die.

**A/N: **So, I know I promised to amp up the romance in the future, but I forgot to mention that I was also going to amp up the _angst_ too! Sorry about that. I couldn't help posting a bit earlier than usual because this is one of my favorite chapters, and it was actually the first one I wrote when I came up with this story. Thank you all for continuing to read and review—you are awesome! Enjoy.


	7. The Flowers and the Training

**Chapter 7: The Flowers and the Training**

"Oh my God!" came Jane's voice from so far away. "Guys, she's over here!"

My vision swam in and out as I saw Bruce, Thor, and Jane hovering over me. Banner's fingers pressed into my left wrist.

"Her pulse is thready," he said. "We've got to get her back to the tower. Now."

"What's going on?" came another voice, and then I recognized Steve Rogers, again lacking in red, white, and blue. Instead, he wore a running jacket and sweat pants. I thought fleetingly—_Of course he doesn't wear the outfit ALL the time._ "I just got a call from Stark." _Must have been interrupted mid-run._

"Tony made Kaila try the pendant," said Bruce. "It had negative side effects when she took it off."

"Her body reacts to it like a drug," said Thor, as if he had explained this a thousand times to them. "She's going into shock."

"Dammit!" said Steve curtly. "Doesn't Stark ever _think_ before he acts?"

"It was Loki…" whispered Thor. "He upset her. He might have made her condition worse."

"C'MON!_"_ I heard Jane scream, and the rest got suddenly quiet. "Kaila has been _used_ enough for one night, don't you think? _All_ of you are to blame."

There was a pause, then Steve said, somewhat hurt, "Wait—how am _I_ to blame?"

Jane gave Rogers a look that would have made a great white shark start to cry. He backed away slowly. My vision was fading to black, but then I heard another voice.

"I agree with Jane," said Natasha, stepping out of the shadows like a quiet cat. "Kaila needs our help right now. And I know _exactly_ what to do."

Suddenly I felt Jane and Natasha's arms around me, shrugging off assistance from the others and pulling me up.

As I finally succumbed to the darkness at the corners of my vision, I remember Natasha whispering into my ear: "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but that was the _best_ party I have _ever_ been to."

* * *

When I woke, my head pounded, and I opened my eyes uncertainly.

"She's up," said a warm female voice, and I rubbed my eyes drowsily. I saw the pale blur of a face with an orange halo surrounding it. As my vision finally cleared, I focused on Pepper Potts sitting beside me.

She smiled kindly at me, leaning forward. "How do you feel?"

I thought for a moment, stretching some of my limbs. Besides the lingering weakness, the shaking had stopped, and I felt relatively normal. Something itched along my arm, and I noticed an IV tube inserted in it, which was attached to a bag holding clear liquid beside the bed.

"Better than the last time this happened," I managed to say.

"I'm afraid our first meeting wasn't the most ideal one, Kaila. It's good to meet you." Pepper extended her hand and introduced herself.

I took her hand, felt its warmth, and managed a smile.

"Tea!" announced Jane cheerfully, and the scientist entered the room balancing four ceramic cups on a wooden tray. "Chamomile, Earl grey, chai, and peppermint."

"I'll take the peppermint," I said softly.

While Ms. Potts helped me up, Natasha came into view as well, so different from the others in her sleek black suit. Her watchful eyes around the room reminded me that I had no idea where we were. There was a large window to my right, but I couldn't see the view outside of it from my angle.

"How is she?" Natasha asked Pepper, picking up a mug from Jane.

"Feeling better," Potts replied. "She looks it too."

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Avengers Headquarters," said Natasha.

"We've staked out a corner of it for ourselves," Jane said, as if it was all a big game. "No boys allowed."

I must have looked somewhat confused, because Pepper added, "We decided that all of us needed some time off from the guys for a day or two. They caused you a lot of grief."

It was then that I remembered _the party, _the pendant, Loki, and my behavior. The memories made my face go hot and I turned away.

"It was all my fault."

"What do you mean?" asked Jane.

"I didn't mean to flirt with Tony, Ms. Potts," I said. "I feel so ashamed…"

"Call me Pepper, my dear," she said, and took my hand. "And don't blame yourself for what happened. Tony was an _idiot_ for putting that pendant around your neck without knowing how it would affect you. He was asking for disaster. In fact, I'm going to text him that _right_ now." She picked up a smart phone from the side table by my bed and typed onto its screen. "Tony. Stark. You. Are. An. Idiot. Love. Pepper."

I smiled slightly, wiping away a tear that had begun to roll down my cheek. I hated to bring up one other factor, but it was bugging me. "Is Loki all right?"

The entire room exploded with loud groans from all three other women. I was starting to feel sorry that I asked.

"Don't get me started on Loki," said Natasha. "He almost took Clint away from me forever."

I hadn't heard _that_ one yet. Swallowing, my mind raced. What else didn't I know about Loki?

"He threw Tony out of a window," said Pepper, as if reading my thoughts.

I turned towards Jane, sipping my tea slowly. "And is it true that he stabbed Thor?"

Jane nodded. "They were raised as brothers, even though Loki is actually a frost giant. But Thor was meant to have his father's crown, and Loki can't accept that."

"So Loki can't stand to look at him," I whispered.

Jane chuckled. "And Thor's love for Loki seems to grow stronger every day. I just can't figure those two out. Maybe you'll do a better job of it, being closer to Loki."

I shook my head. "We're never going to be close."

Natasha said, "Well, he _is_ an irrational, jealousy-prone, compulsively-lying shape-shifter. You have a point."

The others affirmed with bobbing heads.

"No, I mean, I can't get _physically close_ to Loki without draining his powers. We've only held hands briefly… and I was wearing gloves."

There was a pause, and then Jane said, "That could be kind of kinky, right?" The other two gave her weird looks. "What?"

Pepper leaned forward, and I realized how much the other two really paid attention to what she had to say. Her advice was never flippant. Perhaps being with Stark had forced her to become oriented to the _now_, taking advantage of living in the moment.

"Tony's working on that pendant. Theoretically, the _gem_ would supply you with power and block Loki's energy if he touched you. It might give both of you a chance to see if a relationship would work. But, Kaila, be careful. Loki has a _dark _side, just like all of the Avengers, but the difference is that his _shows up_ more often and when you _least_ expect it."

I shuddered slightly, setting my cup down.

An electric-guitar thrum emanated from Pepper's phone, and she checked it, laughing out loud.

"It's Tony," she said, "and look what he sent me."

The others gathered around and started giggling. It was a picture of one very grumpy kitty dressed in an Iron Man outfit. It was ridiculous and endearing at the same time.

_Kind of like Tony Stark_, I thought. No wonder Pepper was in love with him.

Then there was an abrupt knock and Natasha stood up, going to the door and opening it after spying through the peephole.

"She's awake. Thanks for coming."

"I thought men weren't allowed in here," said a soft self-deprecating voice.

"Well, technically, you're also a big green rage monster," said Pepper sweetly, getting up to greet Bruce Banner as he entered the room.

He rifled a hand through his messy hair and gave a small bow at the assembled ladies before turning towards me. I noticed the bouquet of wildflowers in his hands.

"Aw. Are those for me?" I asked.

"Yes," Bruce said, handing them over gently. "They're from Steve."

Shocked gasps came from the ladies, followed by a chorus of "Ooooohs_."_

"I can't believe it!" said Jane.

"Completely out of character," agreed Pepper.

Natasha smoothly kicked a wastebasket over. "I've been trying to set him up with a nurse for _ages_."

There was a bit of awkward silence as Bruce watched the others, an expression of pure fear on his face.

"That said," said Jane, "we're all _extremely_ jealous."

"Yeah," said Pepper. "Steve is probably… No, he _is_ the most stable of the Avengers." She glanced briefly at Natasha. "Sorry, Nat."

"None taken," she said.

"Yeah," said Bruce. "_None taken!"_

"Sorry, Bruce."

I laughed as I gave the flowers to Pepper to put in a vase for me. Meanwhile, Bruce checked my pulse and fiddled with my IV.

"You're going to be just fine," he said with a smile and patted my hand. "You should be back on your feet later today if you feel like it. Just take it easy and get some food." I noticed that when he was taking care of someone was the only time that he wasn't unconsciously wringing his hands.

I took his hand and shook it. "Thanks, Dr. Banner."

He nodded and got up to leave before turning back around shyly, addressing the entire group. "The… the—uh—others wanted me to ask when you all will be opening up your doors to the outside world."

Jane chuckled. "Why?"

"No reason," said Banner quickly, his eyes downcast. Then: "It's… It's just that Thor's a really terrible cook and—"

The others burst into laughter.

"I'm just kidding," said Bruce. "The guys have designated me their official chef."

"Don't worry," said Pepper. "We'll be joining you as soon as Kaila's better."

Natasha touched my arm, winking. "Yes, and we've got some training to do first."

* * *

I was feeling much better the next day when Natasha took me downstairs—to the basement of the headquarters—for a little training. She couldn't stop talking about Rogers and how surprised she was about the flowers, but then her expression changed completely, and she was all seriousness.

"Word is that you need some training, and you're gonna get it. Prepare to get angry."

She proceeded to explicate her philosophy of what made an expert fighter.

"Movie-goers have been fooled into believing that the best fighting comes from a place of spiritual peace. Zen Buddhists flying through bamboo forests, 'Crouching Tiger,' wax-on-wax-off shit. As much as I love those movies, it's not correct. Bruce knows the secret better than any of us, and feel free to ask him about it after he's had a warm bath and done his daily yoga routine. The secret is anger. Something that pissed you off once and it's pissing you off again. _That's_ what you have to channel."

I nodded, although I wasn't sure what I was going to visualize. I didn't have any enemies (besides the swampy ones who wanted to kidnap me that one time). I had a relatively normal and happy childhood. I had never suffered any major disappointments in life, so…

Natasha taught me some basic moves slowed down, similar to tai chi, and then she began fighting me with full force and full speed.

I didn't know what hit me. The assault began with three turning kicks. Natasha was as graceful as a dancer, twirling her legs to deliver a solid kick to my waist and bring me down. Next came four blows with her fists. Two were disarming, along my sides, with another one I feebly blocked before she caught me across the jaw. I was on the floor and dizzy in less than thirty seconds.

I brought a hand up to my lip, but there was no blood, nor would there be any bruises, I was sure. Natasha knew exactly how to take me out without actually hurting me. She had the power to control her strength. Romanoff stood over me, her breath even and barely noticeable. She was watching me carefully, then offered a hand to me to get up. I staggered a bit, recovering slowly, giving her a sheepish grin.

"Ow?"

She flashed a smile. "All right?"

I nodded meekly. "You don't _look_ angry."

"I'm not angry at _you._ I just tap into it, for motivation."

She delivered another punch that I hardly dodged before her knee came up and crunched into my stomach. I sank down again, the wind temporarily knocked out of me.

"Hmm," floated her voice from above. "We're going to have to do some serious brainstorming, Kaila."

She helped me up again. I wanted to thank her, but all I could get out was a wheeze.

Nat set me up with some boxing gloves and worked me through several types of punches. Then she left me alone to practice while she went to another part of the gym to continue her own training.

At that moment, Steve Rogers entered the room. He was too busy wrapping his hands to notice us, but when he saw me, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Afternoon, Steve," called Natasha, rather coyly, from the other side of the room.

"Nat," he acknowledged, averting his eyes from me and heading over to his own corner of the gym.

I continued with the punching bag, trying to pinpoint a specific memory or a figure that made me angry. With the shame of Tony's party came a kernel of anger. Anger at Tony for giving me the pendant in the first place. Anger at Thor and Jane for being the perfect couple and forgetting about me. Anger at myself for not being able to control the magic—to know what the hell I was doing in the first place. And anger at Loki for not _being there_, then being _jealous_. Why hadn't he told me about Manhattan and the Chitauri? Why? Why? Why?

I smashed the punching bag so hard that it flung back and violently forward, clipping me on the lip. I flung my glove off angrily, backing into the nearest wall and slowly sliding down it. I was panting and sweaty and exhausted, but I wouldn't ever be a fighter.

"Yeah, I know how that feels," said a man's voice, as if he could read my mind. I looked up wearily to see Steve Rogers standing above me, wearing a white undershirt and grey sweatpants. He slid down the wall to sit next to me, and I saw the sweat shining from his temples. "Feeling like it's hopeless—like you can't go on." He chuckled softly. "I mean, I used to be physically smaller than you."

I had heard the stories of Captain America—had even seen the traveling exhibit of his life at the Pacific Science Center in Seattle, but even displays of Rogers' old school American charm did not prepare me for the real deal.

"You okay?"

I snapped back to reality and found him looking at me closely, concerned. Then I felt a small trickle of blood running from my lower lip, and I wiped it away, a bit embarrassed. How unladylike of me.

"I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile, my mind still consumed with the aftermath of Tony's party. My anger was building.

"Ready for round two?" he whispered.

I bit my lip, feeling the sting, determined. "Absolutely."

Steve helped me up and gave me some pointers on boxing. _Not everyday you get to have one-on-one lessons with the Captain,_ I thought.

He taught one technique at a time, and I practiced them slowly. He would frequently stop me, correct my approach, and I would try again. This process went on for at least twenty minutes before I began to get into what Rogers called "the flow."

"Sometimes you can lose yourself in here." His voice echoed around me, as if reaching me from far away. I was so focused on the rhythm of hits, solid and fluid, one right after the other. The anger was building, and it all focused on one green-eyed trickster who hadn't told me the truth.

"Hey."

Steve held the punching bag still and I stopped, chest heaving from the work out, sweat pouring down my face. It felt wonderfully freeing—the feeling of growing stronger.

Rogers eyed me warily. "You can't use this as an escape forever. I'll let you in on a little secret of my own: Natasha and Bruce's obsession with anger only takes you so far."

"I heard that!" came Nat's yell from the other end of the gym.

The Cap threw up his hands. "What? Did you put a bug in the punching bag?" He turned back to me, serious once more. "Sooner or later, the true motivator is what's right and what's wrong. But you gotta nice cross. Keep it up."

Before I could say anything, he walked away. I took off the boxing gloves, unwrapping my hands, and the thought popped into my mind: I hadn't thanked Steve for the flowers he sent me. I'd have to catch him in the common rooms later. Ready to depart, I noticed a figure standing in the shadows.

Loki approached me, wearing all black. His face was expressionless, but there was a thin line of interest on his lips, as if he had been watching me for some time.

"Did someone get hurt?" he said, half in concern, half amusement.

He didn't even have time to flinch before my leg had kicked his out from under him, and I punched him once—twice in the midsection and jaw. Loki went down before you could say "god of lies."

"Yes," I said and finished unwrapping my hands.

The only possible reason that it had happened was that he had never expected it.

Natasha was right behind me on the way out and gave me a fist-bump.

"I think we've found what makes you angry," she said.

"I concur."

We left to the noise of Loki's soft whimper and confused grimace from the floor. I'd feel sorry for him later, but at that moment, it was the most satisfying sound in the world.

* * *

**A/N: **A lot of girl power going on in this one, and finally some Steve! Poor Loki. Let's hope that Kaila can forgive him for his appalling behavior at the party. I wanted Kaila to have some fun and finally kick some butt, rather than being the victim all the time. Get ready for the chapter after this one, 'cause it's pretty epic. Thanks for the lovely reviews and feedback, and (as always) I hope you enjoy reading.


	8. The Attack

**Chapter 8: The Attack**

"BANNER!"

Tony, Nat, Clint, and I were all enjoying some gourmet pizza bagels for dinner, courtesy of our very own green rage monster, when we heard the scream.

My first day as a newbie Avenger had consisted of over a dozen tests Stark and Banner had conducted on my system. Small doses of energy had gone in and out my body continuously for about three hours before I protested with the strain. Tony seemed pleased with the day's results, but I felt exhausted. And through the whole day's ordeal, I kept turning around whenever someone new walked into the lab, thinking it would be Loki, but I was disappointed every time. Bruce assured me that Loki rarely hung around the tower, and that we would probably see him soon.

I had been anxious to see Loki, wondering what his reaction would be, or what _mine_ would be, for that matter. We had much to discuss, and I had been dwelling on our eventual conversation when our meal was abruptly interrupted.

We all rushed into the living room to find a horrific scene: Thor and Falcon were holding Captain America between them. I swallowed down dinner that threatened to come back up when I noticed that Thor was covered in blood that wasn't his own. It belonged to Rogers.

There was a frantic rush of bodies as Clint and Nat took Steve from Sam's grasp. Thor was relating details to Stark about the mission as Bruce rushed in to take care of Steve. I only heard bits and pieces through the panic.

"—routine mission… They came from the skies."

"Have we seen them before?"

"No… We were outnumbered."

"—bases covered?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. and Fury took over…"

"Shit!" said Stark and crouched beside Banner, whose fingers were flying at removing Steve's uniform and putting pressure on the wound in his abdomen.

"Bruce, tell us what you need."

I edged closer to Thor, feeling safer next to him, but noting the tremble in his once sturdy frame. And I wasn't entirely sure that he was clutching Mjolnir in anger or fear.

_What did they encounter that could scare a demigod so badly?_

I looked down at Captain America's form, usually steady and strong, now so weak and vulnerable. His eyes flickered open and closed, his face growing paler as the seconds passed by.

Wilson was grasping his best friend's arm, his eyes wet with worry. "C'mon, Steve. You're gonna make it. Hold on, man."

Bruce worked faster and faster, taking bandages from Clint and tools from a medical kit Natasha produced. But was it going to be enough? The blood kept soaking up every new cloth Banner pressed into Steve's side.

"The gash is too deep," said Bruce, his voice faltering. "…punctured a lung, and there's other internal damage. The serum might not be able to work fast enough to repair him."

Rogers' eyes suddenly stopped moving and stillness settled over the scene.

"No," mouthed Sam.

Clint folded Natasha into him and she buried her face in his shoulder. Bruce continued working, but Stark had gone uncharacteristically silent.

I'm not sure what compelled me, but it was as if hands were pushing me forward to move, guiding me out of complacency. Looking back at the event, perhaps it had been the work I had done with Tony and Bruce earlier in the day, where I had a chance to feel the Asgardian power inside me for a longer period of time than ever before. I had begun to change; I was beginning to use my abilities.

This situation felt different than the healers' experiments back in Asgard, with Loki's gentle arms around me, futilely trying to save a dying plant. This was real.

In a split-second, I grabbed Thor's hand. He initially jerked away from my touch, obviously pained, but then he seemed to realize what I was doing and stopped resisting. I felt his immense power fill me right away, feeling the glow of energy from my toes to the top of my head. Just like I had touched Loki that first time in the swamp, I held onto Thor until I saw his eyes close. He began to sway.

"Someone catch him!" I cried, and Barton and Tony rushed to his side, guiding the god of thunder gently to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Stark said, incredulous, looking at me as he had at the party, as if I was some crazy person. He lunged for me, but sparks flew out of my fingertips, shocking him back to the ground.

_Down, mouse_, I thought with a smile.

Natasha put herself protectively between me and Rogers, fear on her face.

"Let her go," came Thor's weak (how strange) voice behind me. "She's trying to save him."

Romanoff let me pass. I felt invincible, as if I was levitating a foot off the ground. Maybe I was. The energy was carrying me now, guiding my movements.

_Is this what Thor feels like all the time? _I thought. _No wonder he's a god._

I knelt beside Rogers, gently nudging Banner away. Bruce, his hands covered in blood, relented.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked suspiciously as I placed my hands on Roger's side.

"Healing him," I said, my voice echoing as if I heard it from far away.

His body was cool to the touch. _Not good._ I felt my hands slide in the slick blood and I swallowed back bile, but I continued. As if I had been doing this all my life, I felt the energy pass out of me as easily as I had acquired it, flowing into Steve, working within him to heal and repair his injuries.

It seemed that I was kneeling on the floor for hours, my power flowing like honey over Rogers' still body. Just as I felt the last bit of energy leave my system, Steve gasped, and his eyes opened.

The others rushed around us, and I smiled down at Rogers, weary and a bit dizzy. I had done it.

"Are you all right?" I asked him quietly, taking his hand.

Steve coughed and blinked a few times, feeling his side where the skin had completely closed over the wound, not even a scar left as a trace of the injury. "I feel…fine, actually. What happened?"

Bruce was once again by my side, checking on Rogers.

"I don't believe it," he muttered, exchanging shocked expressions with Wilson across from him. "It's not possible…"

I turned around weakly, seeing that Thor was sitting up a few feet behind me, his eyes open, but still recovering. He nodded at me, an exhausted smile spreading across his face. "You did well, Ms. Larson."

Trying to stand up proved a difficult task, and I swooned as soon as I was able to, completely drained from the new experience. Swift arms caught me and I looked up into the sharp eyes of Tony Stark.

"That was the coolest thing I've ever seen," he whispered into my ear, eyebrows curving.

"Yeah," I said. "I didn't _freak_ _out_ on you this time, did I?"

Tony winced. "No, but it _was_ kinda freaky."

Steve's voice drifted nearby. "Is she okay? Stark?"

"Kaila's going to be fine," said Tony smoothly, immediately back in character. He set me beside Rogers, propping both of us against a sofa Sam pushed closer to the scene.

Stark sat directly opposite us. "My legs are feeling a bit rubbery too, come to think of it. Bruce?"

Banner, dark circles under his eyes, nodded. Thor crawled over to us and sighed heavily.

Tony suddenly beamed. "I think it's going to be one of those evenings where we all just sit on the floor for supper. What do you guys think?"

Clint and Nat grabbed sodas and extra pizza bagels from the kitchen, bringing them over to us and sitting down cross-legged with the group. Most of us had to wipe Steve's blood off our hands and onto paper towels before eating, and then we recommenced the meal in silence.

_Just another night at Headquarters._

It was Stark who finally spoke up, as we expected him to. "Everyone, I present to you the newest addition to the Avengers: Ms. Kaila Larson—The Conduit."

They raised their drinks up to me and cheered.

I smiled, embarrassed, and saw a fitting moment to whisper into Steve's ear. "Thank you for the flowers, by the way."

"Flowers?" he asked, looking a bit confused.

I figured that he must have forgotten about them (what with his near-death experience and all). As the evening wore on, I felt myself yawning, leaned my head on his shoulder. Steve didn't move away; in fact, he placed an arm around me, and I felt my body tingle with the contact. Rogers laughed tiredly as Stark recalled his classic Vegas escapades (he must have had a novel's worth of them) in front of the group, and I drifted off to the feeling of complete acceptance.

* * *

The next morning, I woke up to find myself on the couch in the living room, covered with a fleece blanket. I felt refreshed, but also a bit stiff, seeing as I had stayed up with the festivities. I looked around, but the room was empty.

Yawning, I stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, which was connected to the living room by a bar. Grimacing, I noticed there was still blood on my hands from the night before, and I went to the sink to scrub it off. I was aiming to get a piece of toast before heading back to my room to take a shower. I was _not_ expecting Loki to be sitting at the kitchen table, mug in hand, and two bowls of cereal in front of him.

Without looking up, he said softly, "Made you some breakfast. Have a seat, and I will get you a cup of tea."

Before I could protest, he pulled a seat out for me to sit down in. I complied and slid a spoonful of the warm cereal into my mouth—it was porridge, like the kind I'd eaten practically every day in Asgard, boiled with whole milk and mixed with cinnamon and honey. In other words, _heaven_! I had nearly cleaned the entire bowl by the time Loki got back with my tea—one teaspoon of sugar and a dollop of milk, just the way I liked it. But the whole scenario was too idyllic, and Loki was being much too quiet.

"Thanks," I managed to say, waiting for some type of response, but none came. The god of mischief sipped his tea quietly and seemed to be suddenly fascinated by an assortment of newspapers scattered on the table.

My frustration eventually got the best of me. "Where _were_ you last night? Didn't you hear what happened to Steve?"

I was actually surprised when Loki graced me with a reply.

"I was there, Kaila. I was fighting alongside Rogers last night. Saw him get hurt. Thor and Falcon took him away, but I stayed behind to fight until the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents took over. By that time, the threat had been mostly neutralized."

My shock must have registered on my face, because he smiled thinly with satisfaction.

"But I'm afraid my efforts pale in comparison to the real hero of the night."

I blushed, turning my face away.

"You must be the apple in Fury's eye, saving his darling poster child like you did. What was it like?"

I merely glared at him as a response.

He smirked. "I bet it was fun."

As I leaned forward to pick up my mug, I noticed how haggard Loki looked, as if he had only just gotten back from the night's action, dressed in Midgardian clothes, a black t-shirt and dark jeans. They were oddly charming on him and transformed him into a being that was far from god-like. Perhaps he _had _gotten back late. However, my concern for him only added to my current anger at his exploits and fear for his safety.

"Why are you always going off by yourself? You left me on my first day here, and you stayed behind last night. Didn't Thor object? You must like going off on your own."

Loki shrugged. "Lack of company certainly makes it easier to avoid getting punched in the face when you least expect it."

I raised one eyebrow up at him.

"Okay," he admitted. "I may have deserved the incident in the gym. I should have expected it too."

I sighed. All of this was mere side talk compared to my deepest concerns.

As if Loki knew what I was thinking, he said, "You found out about Manhattan."

I nodded.

"It was going to happen eventually. Perhaps that is why I distanced myself from you when we first arrived. I was afraid of confronting you about it when you finally heard the truth."

"It's not just that!" I exclaimed, and Loki fell silent. "It's the way you sneak and hide around this place and the rest of the team. And don't use your 'but I'm the god of sneakiness' excuse again, because it doesn't work! They still don't trust you for what you did, and now _I_ don't trust you, because you never _told_ me about it when I thought there would be no secrets between us!"

I was practically panting with rage, trying to control the anger that had spilled out of me in the gym. I felt like I was glimpsing my own inner Hulk.

Loki took a deep breath. "Whatever I have done is in the past, Kaila. I have paid my penance many times over for the harm I caused to your realm. It was, needless to say, a difficult time for me. And the chance of taking over your world was too much fun to pass up."

"Loki—" I warned.

"But it is my _past_, Kaila. It would be cliché to speak it, but you know I have better plans for my future."

I whispered, "And who do they involve?"

"You. Wherever you are, whatever you do. And me. Together."

He reached over to take my bare hand, but I moved it away before he had the chance. My mind was spinning, and I spoke my thoughts plainly. "I'm still trying to get over the fact that you were a super villain."

Loki flashed a rare grin, even though it was a tired one. "It's what I do best."

We sat in silence for several moments and sipped our tea.

"Did you like my flowers?" he said, out of nowhere.

"Which flowers?" I asked, a bit confused.

Loki rolled his eyes. "The ones I gave to Banner to give to you."

Now I was _really _confused. "He said they were from Rogers."

"That is what I _told_ him to say so as not to attract attention. Did you not read the note that came with them?"

I shook my head sheepishly. "I never checked to see if it had a note."

Loki sighed. "Shall I say you are welcome?"

I finally found my tongue to speak again. "What did it say?"

He was about to speak when he decided against it. "You should read it."

Then he put his head into hands in a rare gesture. I had hardly ever seen Loki tired or show weakness before. He _must _have had a long night. "Those…things. I have never encountered a species such as them before. They were made of some kind of metal that mimicked stone; they were dark and robotic."

"Oversized razor-sharp teeth?"

He nodded.

"Glowing red eyes?"

"Yes." Loki looked up, dubious. "How did you—"

"Because there's one right outside the window," I said.

Everything that followed happened very quickly. The robot—stone monster—whatever it was—smashed through the window with such force that it sent both of us flying through the air to crash on the back wall. In a split second, Loki blocked me with his body, sliding in front of me as the _thing_ picked up the kitchen table with two knife-like hands and threw it towards us.

A pulse of blue from Loki's fingers stopped the table in mid-air and flung it back to the robot, which broke against him like kindling. The creature advanced.

Before I could even react, Loki picked me up by my waist and pushed me out the door.

"Run!" he hissed.

We hurtled through the living room, ducking pieces of furniture the robot flung at us as we leapt.

"Where _are_ they?" Loki growled. He pulled me close as a flat screen TV whirled through the air where my head had been a moment before.

Tony was _not _going to be happy about that.

My heart in my throat, I quickened my pace. I was breathless by the time we reached the hallway. Loki slammed the door shut behind us.

"JARVIS, we need it locked!" he yelled, pulling me along.

"Already on it, sir," came the clipped British reply.

I felt a queasy sense of claustrophobia as we wound through the grey corridor, aware of the scraping metal and frantic clawing noises behind us. I hadn't gotten a close enough look at that _thing_ to know exactly what we were dealing with, but I knew it wasn't here to borrow a cup of sugar.

"How many?" Loki asked the air through gritted teeth.

"Four dozen surrounding and currently breaching the tower."

"And they are coming. They _are_ coming, JARVIS?" Loki barked.

"Mr. Stark is on his way and will be here in approximately 7.8 minutes."

"That long?! Was he getting a pedicure in Hawaii?"

Loki yanked me abruptly to the left and we raced down a new hallway, the doors locking automatically behind us, but from the continued screech of metal in our wake, I could tell that the locks weren't stopping them for long.

How many minutes did we have? Five? At best?

"Jarvis—is there a rendezvous point?"

"Captain Rogers is assembling the team on the roof."

"Right. Thanks."

Another door, another new corridor. I had never been in this section of the tower before, and I wondered what it was used for. Various doors were labeled with a sequence of numbers and letters. There was suddenly a loud booming sound and the lights began flickering eerily.

"Kaila, listen to me." I was panting, but Loki seemed barely out breath. "You'll be safer on the roof with the others. Once you're in the storage room, go to the back and escape through an air conditioning vent in the ceiling. Crawl through the vent and that will take you to the stairs on the next level. Climb the stairs to get to the roof exit."

We had stopped at an unmarked door. The lights were flickering faster now, and the thundering crash of metal echoed down the corridor. They would be here soon.

"Kaila!" Loki pulled me close to him, searching deeply in my eyes. "You can do this."

I wanted to tell him that without my pendant or his power, I had about as much a chance finding my way to the roof without getting killed as a diver had the chance of leaping off Mount Everest and landing in a teacup.

But, seeing as we were pressed for time, I kept the comment to myself.

"Come with me," I begged, forcing my knees not to quake in complete terror.

Loki shook his head. At that moment, the door at the end of the corridor folded like a fresh piece of bread—only louder—and I saw the blur of something big, dark grey, and mechanical.

Loki pushed me through the door, his hands already glowing blue with magic.

"Get to the roof!" he commanded and slammed the door shut.

At the same moment, the power went off in the Avengers tower.

* * *

**A/N: **Kaila and Loki are saving the day! I _love_ myself a little Steve-whump and heroic-Loki, so this was crazyfun to write. Huge thanks to all my reviewers—you guys are amazing and make me smile! Let me know how I'm doing. Hope you all enjoy.


	9. The Shield and the Kiss

**Chapter 9: The Shield and the Kiss**

I found myself alone in a cold room, pitch black and silent. The door and walls must have been well padded because I only heard soft dull thuds from the action outside, like noise drifting in from an adjacent movie theater.

I'm not sure if I had ever felt more afraid in my life before. Riding on a Ferris wheel for the first (and last) time at the county fair inspired immense panic, feelings of near-death, and terror-laced memories (freezing at the top of the monkey bars, climbing ropes in gym class, unwisely picking the top bunk at my first sleepover). Suffice it to say that I learned I had a fear of heights via flashbacks through a cotton-candy induced panic at 100 feet.

But this was almost more horrifying than being up high. I was alone, and a triple-locked door was the only thing between me and a set of very sharp teeth. I loved the movie _Jurassic Park_, but I never really wanted to _live_ it, you know?

_Where are the lights_? I thought, momentarily frustrated. Stark boasted of being the only name in clean energy, and with a building as green and high tech as this, surely it didn't run on "normal" electricity.

Or maybe this was worse than I had originally thought.

As the dull thuds beyond the storage room became not-so-subtle poundings, my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and I forced myself to move.

Of course, I nearly ran into a shelf, but I stopped myself just in time, swinging around and placing my hands on cool metal. I paused, and there was a tiny flicker—a brief flash of—what was it? Something. _Someone._

I wasn't alone.

Willing my breath to come slowly and not in gasps, I crept along the shelf—as tall as a range of books in a library—listening for any more movement. Satisfied by the continued quiet, I peeked around a corner, and I was taken aback by the unfolding immensity of the room. There must have been a few hundred tall shelves stacked one right after the other. They contained an assortment of odds and ends: files, boxes of parts, cleaning materials. I even found a stash of tennis rackets (in various colors). If there was a method to the madness, I couldn't be certain, and my lack of vision wasn't helping either.

Where was the air conditioning vent? My heart fluttered when I recalled what Loki had told me. The very end of the room…

I froze. There was another whisper, another trace of a second presence in the room. If there was already one of those _things _inside, how would I possibly make it to the back of the gigantic room? I took a deep breath and began tiptoeing my way, sheltered by rows upon rows of shelves, pausing after each one to listen for any mysterious sounds. I began ticking off the completed rows in my head: ten, fifteen, twenty-five. I began to pick up speed and sprinted softly to the very back, discerning the outline of the air conditioning vent only from its slight discoloration next to the other ceiling tiles.

Another whisper forced me down, and I spread my fingertips on the floor, cocking my head to one side and waiting. As I listened for further sounds, the pounding at the back door grew louder.

_Where was Loki? _I thought, and I worried about him. If the robots got through him, it would only be a matter of minutes before they got to me. And how would I be able to get to the vent in time? There were no handy ladders or footstools about.

I quietly gathered a few sturdy boxes, placing one on top of the other. I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, but I didn't have the luxury to wait around. Inhaling lightly, I took a step on the box—

-and a hand gripped around my throat.

I drew up my knee and kicked back sharply. The figure dodged my blow but released the grip on my neck. I whirled around, clenching my fists and preparing for a fight, but the voice from the specter stopped me.

"You're pretty quiet for a beginner."

I paused, searching for clues in the darkness. Suddenly, a flashlight beam streamed into my eyes. Blinking back fresh tears, I squinted through the discomfort to find…

"Hawkeye?"

Clint nodded and moved his flashlight up and down the stack of boxes. "Admirable attempt, ma'am, but I don't think it's going to work."

"Turn the light off!" I shushed. "The robots—"

"Oh, I know about_ them_," he said slowly, his eyes searching the ceiling to locate the vent. "The problem isn't that they're in _here_, it's that they already know _we_ are. Which gives you very little time to get to the roof."

"Me?" I exclaimed. "What about _you_?"

"Someone has to keep the clunkers occupied," he said, bristling at the not-so-distant scrapes and clatters. "I'll give you a boost."

I hesitated long enough to note the sternness in his eyes, and I knew better than to argue. Climbing the pile of crates, Hawkeye clambered after me until we reached the very top. He handed me a screwdriver, and I fiddled with the vent, at last getting it open and placing my hands on the sides. Then Barton's hands were on my legs, lifting me gently.

"One. Two. Three."

As he pushed me upwards, I slipped into the vent, and the door to the storage room burst open. I couldn't see the monster, but I saw Clint jump down from the stack of boxes and smoothly nock an arrow to his black bow.

"Go!" he shouted, letting the arrow fly. I heard an explosion, a screech, and I scrambled forward on my hands and knees.

The vent shaft was dark and cramped, and I awkwardly dove through the confined compartment. _Just like the Jeffries tubes in Star Trek, _I thought. How many _Star Trek_ references was I bound to make that day?

Below me, I heard the muffled clatter of destruction, but I kept on moving, my hands strained and knees bruising as I scooted forward. With every new explosion or skitter of metal, I jerked my head back to see if I was being followed, but there was only darkness.

It felt like I had been crawling for an hour before I finally saw a small square of light in the distance. As I got closer, I peered through the small crack in the grate to look into a dim stairwell. The brightness must have come from a roof skylight. I was nearly there!

A mechanical popping sound directly behind me forced my body into action. I kicked at the metal grate in front of me until it clanged to the floor below, and as I peeked my head outside of the vent to the stairwell below, I had to stifle a scream.

One of them was waiting for me. I could see its eyes glowing, bright red in the low light, like the Mothman. Its hefty stone body jerked automatically as it moved towards the stairs. Aside from the fine-tipped teeth that would put a T-Rex to shame, the most noticeable things about it were the arms that instantly transformed to wield implements as sharp as blades. I winced when it reminded me of _Edward Scissorhands_—but these knife-hands weren't used for haircuts and artistic shrub trimming. I feared their purpose was much more sinister.

What choice did I have? This was my only route to escape. Could I go back now? Not with the frenzy I heard approach me from behind, in the darkness of the chute.

As I was debating what to do, the creature in the stairwell looked right at me.

I froze, briefly hypnotized by those red eyes. In their depths I sensed a sentience I had not noticed before—a brain behind the metal—and an overwhelming hatred that glowed hotter than its eyes.

It raised a twitching jerking set of daggers towards me, and I knew it was all over…

Until Captain America nearly cut the creature in two with his shield.

I shrieked with the suddenness of it, watching as he wrenched the vibranium guard _out_ of the thing. Its eyes had dimmed, but it was still moving, although slower now.

"Kaila!" Rogers yelled up at me. "Jump!"

There had been too many direct verbal demands emanating from men that day for my taste. I was going to respond to the Captain with something snarky, but my hands were shaking so badly that I didn't have it in me. Besides, there was something as loud as an old blender coming up fast behind me in the chute, and I didn't feel like becoming a smoothie at that particular moment.

I tried to land with grace, but I didn't have much experience in jumping off high places and landed on my side, rolling my right ankle in the process. I screeched with the pain and then screamed even louder when another robot from hell nearly fell on top of me from the vent.

"Just great!" said Steve. He had backed the first creature onto the stairs, and it was weakening. I dove to his side, nearly missing a knife-finger than must have been bent on turning me into a human shish kabob.

Turning around, Rogers leapt in front of me, blocking another blow from the next robot. With a single thrust, he plowed into the thing, tossing it through the stairwell door. Then, careening past me as I tried to get out of the way, he hauled up the first monster, nearly four times his size, and jammed it against the door to act as a temporary barrier.

When Steve turned around and noticed my horror, he shrugged and muttered, "I think it's dead."

I couldn't take my sight off the once-red eyes that were now lifeless and dull, as if someone had turned off its switch, and I didn't even realize that the Captain was dragging me away until I put pressure on my bad ankle and cried out, sinking to the floor.

Rogers knelt down next to me. "Kaila, are you all right?"

"Twisted my ankle," I managed to say, blinking back tears and exhaustion.

The Captain bit his lip. Although the mask partially obscured his features, his eyes were shining with worry. "That thing will be on us soon. We have to move, and we have to move now. Can you make it?"

I was tempted to suggest that he carry me up the stairs _a la_ the damsel in distress, but then my rational mind took over, and I swallowed hard. Rogers would need his hands free if that _thing_ overtook us.

"Let's do it."

As Steve supported me around the waist with one arm, I held onto the railing and began hobbling up the staircase, which seemed to spiral up and up forever. I was winded and gasping after the first story.

"How…many…floors…are there?" I panted.

"About fifteen more to go."

I choked back a frustrated sob and continued. As we moved, I felt myself getting faster, but it wasn't fast enough to outrun the robot. I could hear it gaining with each metallic step. Soon, it would be upon us. To add to my anxiety, I felt my ankle becoming more tender. What were we going to do?

The Cap paused and turned me towards him.

"Listen," he said, "I'm going to stay here and hold it off. You have to keep going. You'll be safe on the roof."

I nodded, shaking, although I really wanted to protest and stay with him. The one with muscles wanted the one with the sprained ankle (and _no_ muscles) to go off, on her own? Scandalous.

Rogers gently gripped my shoulder, surely noting the fear in my expression. "I'll see you again soon."

The half-smile he offered me was enough to spur me on. I brushed aside my pain and hopped—sometimes on one foot—up the last two flights of stairs. I was panting and leaning heavily on the railing by the time I was at the top. When I peered down to check on Steve, all I saw was a whirl of black metal and blue. It was horrifying and elegant at the same time—like a sinister dance.

I had to keep moving. The door marked "ROOF ACCESS" was in front of me. I pushed the fire safety bars open and ran into the bleak sunlight.

The scene I found myself in the middle of was akin to _War of the Worlds_. A massive grey ship, cube-shaped, hovered in the air on the northeast side of the tower. From its dark hatches came two creatures at a time, hurling themselves in the air to land with a crunch on the asphalt of the roof. The Hulk, Iron Man, and Black Widow were each in a corner, fighting the oncoming foes. Each Avenger maneuvered with their own unique styles and abilities. It was truly thrilling to watch.

I tried to remain by the door, out of the way of the others, and safe from harm and attention, but it wasn't that simple. As soon as I had closed the door to the roof, a metal hand snaked its way from behind it and nearly took off my head in the process of grabbing me. I sprinted awkwardly away, ignoring the grinding ankle pain in my desperation to find a place hide, but the creature was gaining on me. I searched for some tool or weapon, anything that could give me an advantage, but there was nothing. I heard the Hulk roar as I approached his corner, and I desperately hoped that some part of Banner would recognize me instead of crushing me under foot. With my luck, he would toss me aside like the bots he was picking apart one by one.

Unfortunately, I didn't make it to the Hulk's protective corner before a cold blade slipped in front of my neck, stopping me immediately. I gulped, feeling the weapon, like a scalpel, flex and curve around my body. A small bead of sweat slipped down my forehead and plashed onto the knife-finger.

_What now?_

Then I felt a hand around my waist jerking me down, getting free of the metal grip, and we were rolling, rolling, rolling across the concrete. My head spinning, I looped up to find Natasha's arms around me.

"Cover your head," she said with a wink, and I barely had time to react before there was an explosion close by. Bits of robot—metal chunks and sharp points –scattered around the area. When I looked up, dazed, Barton was reloading another arrow with a special volatile tip.

"How did you get up here?" I called incredulously.

"Shinnied up the wall," he shouted back and sent another arrow into the pack that had now surrounded Iron Man. There was another blast, and bits of debris sprinkled across the area.

"You're welcome," Clint said, touching a hand to his ear, his communication device.

_Gotta get myself one of those, _I thought.

Natasha guided me towards a utility shed a short distance behind the stairway exit.

"Stay here," she said briskly, "and don't play hero."

I noted the playfulness in her voice before she raced off to join Barton's side, but I still felt the weight of her words, and they stung. I was an amateur super hero, a super hero in training, still a mortal among gods.

Speaking of gods, Thor had flown in from who-knows-where and landed on the rooftop right across from me, on the southwest side. He nodded his head in my direction and then began swinging Mjolnir with a fury I had never seen before. Directly above him, dark clouds began to form, brooding, emanating snatches of thunder. As he targeted his hammer at the robots, electricity arced out of the clouds, shooting towards the ship. He struck down a dozen of the creatures simultaneously, knocking their ship out of the sky as it faltered and attempted to auto-correct. I could hear Thor's hearty chuckle echoing through the atmosphere as his magic sizzled around him, and I was dazzled by the display. No wonder he was on the team.

From my unique vantage point, I could admire each of the Avengers at work. Stark was swooping low—blasts coming from his hands—then zooming up in the air to pummel a creature on his way back down. His attacks weren't always smooth and calculated, but they were always cool. I thought of Iron Man as just another extension of Tony, like Rogers with his shield, or Thor with his hammer.

Clint and Natasha were thrilling to watch as they played off each other's movements, using stealth and speed to their advantage. Nat would draw in an enemy only to lead it in Barton's line of sight, and then his arrow would disable it or bring it down with a minor detonation. However, some of the creatures were larger and swatted the arrows off, like parasites. Clint and Nat scrambled…

Meanwhile, the Hulk was the most unpredictable of the group. He crashed his way through each opponent, snarling and growling, ripping limbs apart and sometimes smashing them together, so unlike his counterpart. I wondered if Bruce had seen footage of the "other guy's" destruction.

Although a single bot didn't do much damage, the Hulk began to moan when a group of fourteen of them attacked him at once.

_Someone has to help him!_

But the others were busy in their various corners. Thor had flown over and was dealing with a fresh onslaught headed in my direction. I cowered before the battle, terrified, yet extremely frustrated that I couldn't join in the fight.

I looked longingly at the Hulk, roaring with pain, and almost dashed out to try and help him, but Captain America beat me to it. He came racing out of the stairwell exit, shield at the ready, and spun it like a Frisbee, skewering two robots at the same time. It shot back to him, as fast as a boomerang, and he leapt on another monster attacking the Hulk. They went down together, but he had flung the bot off the roof by the time they both got back up.

Steadily, Rogers began to move to my corner. I noticed that more of the stone giants were headed in this direction and the entire army's attention seemed to have a focus now; I was afraid that focus was me.

Ten bots headed my way, and I unconsciously pressed against the utility shed's wall, hands spread out. I felt like Patricia Neal facing Gort in _The Day the Earth Stood Still_. However, this time I was pretty sure uttering, "Klaatu barada nikto," wasn't going to get me out of this mess.

They were advancing quickly, nearly three feet away before Captain America barreled into them, like a bowling ball knocking down pins. Natasha and Clint joined in the fight, whirling between one foe and the other. My head was spinning just watching them, and I leapt away from the shed, two monsters breaking through the barrier to come after me.

There was very little I could do except run, but I didn't have anywhere to go. My ankle made sprinting out of the question, and everywhere I looked was the shiny grey metal and piercing flash of their deadly built-in weapons.

A sharp cry drew me back to the action. I stared in horror as Captain America fell, struck down by a particularly large creature. His shield had been lodged in a fallen bot some twenty feet away, and he had been in the process of retrieving it when the large giant blindsided him. I ran awkwardly to the vibranium shield, attempting to lift it, but it was hopelessly stuck, and I didn't have the strength to remove it.

I moved closer to Steve, angling up behind the monster, silently praying that Rogers would get up, get up, _GET UP. _But he remained still, and the robot was about to slice him in half.

Looking back on the event, it was a stupid decision, (Fury certainly wouldn't have approved) but it was my only option at the time. I jumped in front of Steve, guarding him as if _I_ was his shield. In seconds, I spread myself protectively over his body and felt the white-hot pain as the robot's blade pierced my chest, sliding into me and retracting in another rush of shooting agony.

I couldn't think, I couldn't move, and I couldn't breathe. I was sinking, sinking to the warm concrete, and then I was lying on my side. Steve had recovered and was yelling something—I'm not sure what—throwing punches, left and right, at the blur of a monster, spiraling around and retrieving his shield with a snap of his wrist. But his movements were almost redundant. I could tell through gradually blurring vision that the creatures were retreating, moving swiftly back to their ship.

There were other bodies around me, kneeling down, close by. Snatches of bright colors—black, red and gold, blue—the blue was Steve. I was tangled up in it. He was holding me, lifting my head up to rest against his legs. I saw his face hovering in my sight.

"Why do you have to keep saving me?" he said—and why did his voice break while saying it? Then he was rocking me, rocking, rocking…

"Get Banner!" came Nat's stern shout.

Tony's voice next. Something about the Hulk being injured. For some reason, I found his comment ironically amusing, and I started laughing, but all that came out was a thin stream of warm blood, running down my chin.

Steve was soothing me, but the world was growing murkier and full of shadows. It was nice, really.

"Call for medics!" Clint this time.

"It's too late," came a voice, and I realized that it belonged to Thor, softer than I'd ever heard him speak before.

Rogers was holding me tightly, as if that would keep me around a little longer, and I thought I saw the sky open up into a tunnel of pearl-white…

"**NO!"**

His voice brought me back, if only for a moment. I didn't have to ask to whom it belonged to. Loki. Battered, bruised, exhausted, Loki was in front of me. Then Thor was trying to hold him back with all the tenderness of a man who wanted to prevent his brother from feeling any pain. But Loki pushed him away with such force that the god of thunder actually stumbled.

The others cleared a wide path for him—and his eyes—his eyes! I hoped to never see those eyes again. They were murderous and shining with rage and sorrow.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HER!" he cried, and his words echoed along the rooftop. "They wanted her all along!"

And then Loki was holding me in his arms. Rogers backed away guiltily. When I looked back to Loki, a tear slipped from his eye into mine. Something was running slick along the concrete beside me—something dark. The ache in my abdomen had become a chilling throb, almost a distant memory now.

"Forgive me for not being here," he said softly, calmly, despite the quake in his voice. "Everything will be right."

Then I felt his lips press against mine, and Loki was embracing me passionately. Besides my initial shock at the sudden contact, I blinked as a slow tingling coolness spread inside my body, as if the kiss was protecting me, healing me. And it was. In alarm, I tried to push him away when I realized what he was doing, but I was too weak, and Loki didn't let go.

The eternal kiss continued until I could feel its magic repairing my insides, replacing blood that had seeped into my clothes and pooled on the concrete. Then the energy was spreading over my abdomen, repairing damaged organs and knitting skin cells together without the painful twang of stitches. At that point, I didn't want to back away. I succumbed to the kiss like a painter succumbs to her muse, folding into his arms and embracing the ecstasy of life renewed.

It felt pretty fantastic.

And when I felt at last that the kiss was over, that Loki could give me no more, I stirred and opened my eyes to an alarming sight. He was falling, falling away from me. I sat up to catch him and held him to my body, careful to avoid touching his skin further. He seemed less than god-like and smaller, still wearing the jeans and black t-shirt I had noted earlier that morning, a young man. My vision swirled—I was still a bit weak, but I would survive. I couldn't say the same about Loki.

He was pale—so pale—and there were fresh tear stains running down his cheeks. Was he even breathing?

I knew the others were standing around us in a semi-circle, watching everything in awed silence, but I didn't see them. All of my attention was on the one who had saved me. At that moment, Loki wasn't an immortal; he was slowly slipping away.

I shook him, uncomprehending his lifeless frame, his porcelain face.

"No," I whispered. "Wake up. Please, please…"

But Loki didn't stir.

And then Thor was swooping in—his rust-colored cape brushing my side—and he pressed a hand against Loki's face.

"It is well," he said, but his expression was screaming the exact opposite of those words. This was Thor appearing more frightened than after last night's attack, when he had been covered in Rogers' blood.

I sat there dumbly as the others motioned to help Thor, and they took Loki away from me.

* * *

**A/N: **So I know this fic can be kinda angsty and cheesy, but ***swoon***. Sometimes you gotta give in to the drama of not-really life. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!


	10. The Director and the Note

**Chapter 10: The Director and the Note**

Orange light from the sunset swayed lazily and yawned with me. What was it about that time of day—dusk—when the world finally found some peace and stopped racing around, helter skelter, for once?

I watched Loki lying in the same bed I recovered in after Tony's infamous party. He was hooked up to a single IV, which pumped basic fluids into his body. It was more for effect than anything. A half dozen fancy high-up SHIELD doctors had swooped in once the call was made that two Avengers were seriously injured, but it was apparent right away that they had no clue how to help the Frost Giant. One assistant almost looked like he was going to pass out when he saw me, walking around in my bloodstained clothes, searching for Loki.

Romanoff had to remind me to change or I wouldn't have noticed. But I waited until there was no sign of danger and Loki was resting comfortably before I went back to my room, wincing at the nonexistent pain in my ankle, so sharp just an hour before, now completely gone. Once in the room, I stripped off my clothes (how I wanted to burn them!) and stepped into an ice-cold spray.

I needed the frigid water to wake me up, to shake me out of the post-battle daze.

_Is this what it's going to be like?_

Staring at my naked body in the bathroom mirror, I examined my torso. It was strange not to see a single scar. I examined my hand and noticed that even the scar on my left palm I had gotten when I was a child, after accidentally slicing it open with scissors, wasn't there either. There was nothing—my body was as blank as an empty canvas.

I slipped into a t-shirt and sweat pants and wandered back to Loki's room. I didn't feel the exhaustive drop in energy I usually felt after dabbling in magic, but I sensed that was because Loki's power had all been spent on saving my life and healing me. The only side effects this time were listless boredom and incredulity. I couldn't quite believe I was still alive, and—staring at Loki—I couldn't quite accept that his decision had been a potentially lethal one. It was strange to be angry at him for saving my life.

Bruce was in the room next door to Loki's—at least, that's what Stark told me softly as he passed me in the hallway. He walked by without a snide remark, without a quip, and it was eerie. He looked worn out and numb, almost shell-shocked from what had happened.

When I got back to Loki's room, I was surprised to find Clint and Nat there.

As I entered, I could hear the dregs of their conversation.

Clint: "What about Banner?"

Nat: "I heard they attacked him with their… teeth. Pretty serious scarring."

Clint: "_Jesus."_

Nat: "I know."

They got quiet when they noticed me, and I stepped closer to Loki's sleeping form. He looked so small in the bed, pale and vulnerable, like the day I met him after the incident in the swamp. For some reason, my eyes grew wet and I blinked, incensed at my own lack of control. The day's terrors were finally catching up with me, and I didn't have the strength to hold my emotions back anymore.

I felt a hand on my arm, and I looked up blearily. Natasha gave me a small smile and squeezed my arm gently.

"What you did for Cap—it was poor judgment and totally unexpected."

I stifled back a chuckle.

"But it was great. Really great. I think we all owe you thanks."

Looking at Barton, he gave me an approving, if somewhat out of character, thumbs up. We all turned to face Loki again.

"Will he be okay?" I whispered.

"He will heal," said a deeper voice from behind us that I knew almost as well as Loki's. "He is just extremely weak."

Thor was standing over us, his expression grim. How I wanted to embrace him, but he kept his distance, looking on at his brother in concern. I couldn't quite tell how the god of thunder felt about me, and I was afraid that he blamed me for Loki almost dying.

I turned back around, a tear slipping slowly down my cheek. Wiping it away with the back of my hand, I felt another hand on my shoulder. Judging by its weight, it belonged to Thor.

His voice confirmed my guess. "I am glad you are well, Kaila."

Then Jane visited and Thor said goodbye to us quietly. I was cheered up a little bit by Jane's warm hug and Thor's forgiving eyes. Maybe he didn't begrudge me as much as I thought he did for almost killing his younger brother.

Clint and Nat stayed on a few more minutes before leaving too. Barton, usually so stoic, mumbled in my ear as he left. "He must like you an awful lot to die for you. Practically Shakespearean."

I found myself alone with Loki and stood for several minutes before finally pulling up a nearby chair. I waited—for how many hours, I don't know—searching for some hint of consciousness, for a sound or movement, but Loki remained still.

While admiring the simplicity of the room, I suddenly became aware of the forgotten bouquet of flowers on the bedside table, wilted and dry with age. How ironic that Loki's flowers for me had faded and now decorated the room where he was recuperating. The remembrance of the flowers triggered my conversation with Loki that morning in the kitchen.

_The note_, I thought.

Carefully, I got up and found the small envelope, still attached to the vase and partially hidden by the dying blooms. I was about to open the note when I heard a voice beside me.

"True wisdom comes to each of us when we realize how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us.'"

I quickly stuffed the piece of paper into my pocket, and I turned around to meet a man wearing a stylish long leather jacket and a matching eye patch. He was standing right next to me, and he seemed vaguely reminiscent of a pirate and Odin King at the same time, mixed with a tinge of James Bond. I had heard so much about our director behind the scenes, Nick Fury, that I was surprised to be meeting him now.

"It's a quote by Socrates," he said placidly.

"Wasn't he forced to drink poison?"

"He drank it himself," said Fury, "rather than be corrupted by the power-seeking leaders who condemned him."

I mused, "A timely statement, considering my relationship with power."

"_He_ craved it once," Fury said, gesturing toward Loki's sleeping form. "Almost destroyed us in the process."

"But he turned," I said. "You let him come back; you accepted him."

"We twisted his arm," said Nick. "We put shackles around his wrists that prohibited his magic and a metal trap around his mouth so he couldn't talk. And _then_ he relented. And we accepted him, yes."

I held my breath for a moment, finally speaking. "And would you do that to me?"

Fury turned to me with a grim smile. "_You_ didn't attempt to take over the world and kill hundreds of people in the process."

There was a pause. I felt a sense of déjà-vu from hearing about Loki's exploits, and I was once again filled with a feeling of dread and incomprehensible loss. _How_ could he have done that?

"Still, I never thought he'd finally turn around," said Fury quietly. "And we have you to thank for that, Ms. Larson."

I looked up quickly. "You mean you have me to thank for the fact that Loki almost died."

"That he's on the team," Fury said. "He's one of _us_ now, and you will be too, I hope."

Sighing, I wrung my hands with the stress of that thought. "My friends and family back home—will they understand?"

"They'll understand why a young woman would want to use her unique talents to help her country and her world."

I shook my head. "Looking at him, I don't know how I can possibly go on. If it wasn't for me—"

"If it wasn't for you, Captain America would be severely injured, if not dead. You saved his life."

His comment silenced me momentarily. How could I take credit for saving an Avenger when I almost killed another?

"Stark has almost finished working on your pendant," said the director. "I would hope that you would give your decision a second thought and join us. At the very least, the pendant would give you some power to protect yourself against other forces in the galaxy that seem to want you kidnapped or dead, or both. Some of that power might come in handy next time a slimy beast tries to hurl you into another realm in the middle of a lecture on Langston Hughes."

As much as I didn't want to admit it, Fury was right. Just because of who I was, my life had to become entwined with the Avengers. They were my family now.

"No," came a soft moan.

Both of us looked up, and I leaned forward to see Loki blinking at me, appearing weak and a little lost.

"You're awake!" I exclaimed, rushing around to place a hand beside his. "How do you feel?"

"Don't listen to Fury," he said under his breath. "You cannot be part of this—this chaos. He is only using you."

I tried to comfort and quiet him, but Loki's eyes closed and he slept once more.

Fury cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, and he put his hands behind his back in a military posture. "I'd let him get some sleep, and the same goes for you. You look tired, Larson."

I nodded numbly, waiting for the director to leave before I quietly stood up and walked back to my room.

* * *

A sharp rap on my door woke me, and there was a brief moment when I thought I was back on Asgard and Loki was my dutiful alarm clock, ready to greet me in the morning with a scone and a cup of tea. And then I recognized the grey walls and sparse décor, and I remembered.

Slinking into a lilac-colored nightgown, I ventured to the door, stretching as I went.

Surprise didn't quite sum up my emotions when I opened the door.

Steve was almost totally obscured by a bouquet so large that it nearly reached the door's archway. A flurry of roses, tulips, carnations, and many other types of flowers met my gaze. Rogers' face was somewhere behind the gorgeous mess, almost as pink as the chrysanthemums.

"Good morning!" he got out, sound somewhat muffled by the flowers.

I consciously closed my mouth from gaping in awe and ushered him inside.

"Steve…Wow!" I didn't know what else to say, really.

He wandered unsteadily to a nearby desk and set them down, turning back around and removing his retro Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap. I thought about his hat a beat longer and realized that it probably wasn't retro. It was probably from the late thirties.

"Just wanted to thank you for what you did on the roof, and the incident with the… We-We're all very impressed and grateful."

I bit the inside of my cheek, almost sighing with his boy-next-door charm; it was precious. I wanted to spontaneously ask him how many times he had bought Natasha flowers for saving his life, but thought of something else instead:

"They are so beautiful. Thank you, Steve!"

Going forward, I gave him an awkward hug. His arms were warm and strong around my back. Part of me wanted to stay longer in his arms—the touch was comforting. And after all I had been through over the past few days, I felt like I should accept anything that Steve offered me. But the moment passed quickly and when we released, I could see him blush again, which only made my face redden as well.

_What a pair we are._

Clearing my throat, I focused on running my hands through the flowers and arranging them.

"I thought that since everyone believes I sent you flowers originally, I might as well authenticate the gesture and make the rumors true."

His comment made me remember the mix-up, another of my embarrassing mistakes I had never corrected. "I'm sorry about that situation, Steve. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Steve flashed another quick smile. "At least you gave the gang some new gossip. It's hard to come by."

There was a somewhat self-conscious pause while Steve got suddenly quiet, and I continued to admire the flowers as if they were the most fascinating plants on the planet.

"Tony's done working on the pendant. He wondered if you could try it on tomorrow and run some trials. We thought we'd give you a day to rest…"

"Sounds good," I said, thinking back to the conversation I had last night with Loki. As out of it as the god was, I knew his position on the subject of the pendant was clear as mud.

"We're really excited to have you on the team," Rogers said warmly, as sweet as apple pie, and I couldn't help grin back at his contagious enthusiasm. But I wasn't prepared for what followed.

"Would you like to go out with me sometime? Dinner and a movie? Or dancing, maybe?"

I felt my face burning again. My insides twisted painfully. He was so sincere, honest, and caring. So _pure. _And he wanted to go on a date. With me. Was I dreaming?

"Oh—that's so nice of you, but I'm seeing someone."

_Way to go, Kaila. You just turned down the Captain. Around the world, a million fangirls are sobbing into their American flags._

"Ah," he said immediately, fumbling with the hat he'd removed. "Sorry—"

"That's okay."

Steve quickly turned around and headed for the door, like some puppy that'd been denied a walk in the park. I followed him anxiously, not sure what to say. I was going to thank him again for the flowers, but he spun around.

"Loki gave you the flowers originally," he said, with a realization that caused his blue eyes to sharpen.

I affirmed his statement with a slight nod.

Rogers opened his mouth as if he was going to add more, but he turned to leave instead.

I wasn't going to let him go that easily. "You know I would say yes if it wasn't for him."

Steve looked up, his face changing from dejected into hopeful. "Well, if it doesn't work out, you know where to find me."

"Going head-to-head against a punching bag?"

He chuckled and walked away.

As I closed my door, I wondered if I had done the right thing. Of course I had! Without absolute fidelity, there would be nothing left to keep Loki and I together. On a whim, I raced to the pair of jeans I had flung over a chair and dug through the pockets, taking out the note I had only begun to read.

_Kaila—_

_Whatever my faults, will you learn to trust me? I do not expect forgiveness for my past actions and my coldness to you on Midgard. My jealousy was shameful at the party, but know that you are always in my thoughts, and always will be. Please don't give up on me when it seems like everyone else has. I'm afraid you have become like air to me, Kaila, and I won't be able to breathe without you. _

_ Loki_

I folded the note up and placed it in the jewelry box with the bracelet Loki had given me by the bridge in Asgard. Then I sat on my bed and took a deep gulp of air as warmth spread over my body. I needed to see Loki as soon as possible or I was going to start bursting into song, like someone on the Tony Awards.

* * *

He was in the same bed where I'd left him the night before. I ate a quick pastry after bumping into Clint and Nat, who were busy making omelets. Then I fixed a cup of tea for Loki and dashed back to the room where he was resting.

When I entered his quarters, I could hear raised voices, and I immediately knew something was wrong. I slowed my pace, honing in on the two speakers arguing. One was Loki, caustic as always, and the other was Thor, deep and booming.

"You cannot blame her for wanting to use her power!"

"You know Fury and Stark only want her as an experiment. They do not care about her or her well being."

"She could be a valuable member of the Avengers, Loki. Why deny her the potential she is capable of?"

"Because I do not trust them! You recall what they did to me? One slip-up and they are going to lock her away forever."

"Just like they did to you?" was Thor's biting reply.

The conversation escalated out of control, and I saw my chance to enter the room. Thor's body language screamed defense and frustration. Hammer in a belt at his side, it seemed strangely out of place resting on his hip against blue jeans. He wore a red-checkered shirt and thick brown boots, like some kind of Asgardian cowboy.

The god of thunder stepped away from Loki as soon as he saw me, nodding politely.

"Good morning, Miss Larson. I take my leave now, brother."

When Thor left, I stepped quietly over to Loki, taking a seat by his side. He looked better—less pale, fewer bags under his eyes. But the expression on his face was anything but chipper. His lips were drawn in a thin straight line, and he didn't acknowledge me.

"How are you feeling?" I asked softly.

Loki barely shrugged.

I felt my heart, so full only moments ago, lose some of its spark. "I read your note."

Nothing.

"Brought you some tea too." I set the cup down beside him. "Just the way you like it. A bit of milk and no sugar."

Nothing.

"Talk to me."

Loki slowly swiveled his eyes to mine. When he spoke, the words came out like grit between his teeth. "Thor told me that you are going to go through with it. You are going to wear the pendant."

"Loki, this isn't a sure thing—"

"I told you my opinion on this subject." His voice was louder now. "If you join the Avengers, we are finished. I will not stand by and let you be harmed further."

I blinked, trying to process his point of view. Something wasn't quite making sense, and I got the feeling that I didn't know the whole story.

"But I'll be nearly invincible with the pendant, like you and Thor. I don't see how there's greater risk. I'd have thought you'd _want_ me to wear it. I mean, we'll be able to touch. Finally."

I made a forward motion to grab his covered hand, but he flinched, moving it away.

"And when you remove the pendant after growing used to its potency, you will become sick again. It will happen eventually, Kaila, and it could kill you."

"I'll never take it off," I said, almost defiantly, growing angry with the god of mischief in spite of my hopeless feelings towards him. And what were those feelings, exactly? Certainly not love… Was it?

"Then we're through," he said.

"_We?_" I pried, lashing back. Why couldn't this relationship ever be _easy_? "_You're_ giving up on this, Loki. Not me. Not yet."

With that, I stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind me.

* * *

**A/N: **Ah, as the Realm of Midgard turns… Soap opera fans, you're welcome. The rest of you, my deepest apologies. We're getting to some awesome action next chapter. Enjoy!


	11. The Pendant Experiment

**Chapter 11: The Pendant Experiment**

Natasha fetched me bright and early the next morning, placing a bowl of yogurt with dried fruit and honey in my hands, guiding me down a few levels to the basement where we had trained before. We didn't speak much on the way down. I was so anxious that I could barely swallow my breakfast. The last conversation I'd had with Loki kept bleeding into my calming thoughts, causing doubt. I was determined to be successful—I was determined to wield the power of the pendant for good. I couldn't fail; I would prove to Loki that I could use my abilities in a positive way and protect myself, or else… Everything was on the line now, including our future together.

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn't realized we had reached our destination. Managing to gulp down a few small mouthfuls of yogurt, Nat took the bowl back from me, giving me an encouraging smile in the process, small yet confident.

Confidence was definitely something I was going to need a lot of. The sight of the training gym transformed before me made my knees knock together.

In the place of punching bags, treadmills, and mats was a giant glass… cage. A "cage" was the only word for it, a bell jar of humungous proportions. It reminded me of an instrument used to preserve and classify the strange and anomalous.

In other words, me…

As we approached it, I placed a hand on the smooth clear glass, attempting to determine its thickness—how many inches would protect the outside world from its contents?

"Fury commissioned it for Bruce," whispered Romanoff beside me. "Well, the 'other guy.'"

When I heard new voices enter the arena, my heartbeat quickened.

Natasha had already sensed them, placing a hand on my shoulder and saying, "Good luck," before she walked away.

It was Stark and Banner. I could pick up Tony's snarky overtones and Bruce's quiet chuckle anywhere.

"So what is Fury gonna call those things? Bad Bots? Terrible Terminators?" That was Tony.

"I think Agent Hill's labeled them 'Razors.'"

"Oh, _c'mon!_" Tony exclaimed. "Why don't we have a little fun with it? We could call them anything we want, like 'Jaws Minus Sharks.' I kinda like 'Pepper on a Bad Day.'"

Bruce laughed softly, ever reserved. "I'm not sure what Fury would say about that. Or Pepper, for that matter."

"Get me Hill. I wanna be on that name committee, Bruce."

And then Tony's hands were on my shoulders, compressing gently before wheeling around me. Bruce matched Stark's quick pace beside him.

"Ready for the prom, Carrie?" Tony asked with a quick grin and established himself at a control panel in front of the glass cage. With a few musical beeps, the dome opened up in the center with a pressurized hiss.

Bruce, at first completely consumed with the control panel, finally looked up. He sighed. "I hate that thing."

Stark guffawed and smacked the other man in the side playfully, taking a piece of gum out of his back pocket and fiddling with the wrapper before popping the stick in his mouth.

"It's a lovely bowl for the Jolly Green Giant!"

Banner rolled his eyes and walked past me to step into the bell jar. As he passed me, I was a bit shocked to see the faint traces of scars along his neck and winding up his face, white and pinkish, standing out against the tan of his flesh. I shuddered—those _things_, the Razors, had done that to him. All because of me.

"Kaila?"

I started when I heard Tony call my name, and I realized that both men were waiting on me.

"Apres vous," said Stark with a floppy wrist.

I swallowed and reminded myself why I was doing this. To help Earth and the Avengers. To protect myself. To further science. And to win Loki back.

It was the latter reason that made my feet shuffle onto the platform and lead me into the dome. Banner followed me closely.

Tony, lips smacking, pressed a few more buttons, and I saw the glass swivel and close with a breezy puff of air.

Bruce and I stood across from one another. His posture was neutral, and it wouldn't have surprised me if he had put his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels, and started talking about the weather. Instead, Banner ruffled a hand through his wavy hair, as if he was still trying to wake up too, and approached the glass on Tony's side. He tapped on it, almost annoyed.

Suddenly, Stark's booming voice came through the glass barrier.

"Can you hear me now? You're gonna have to try a little harder than _that_ to break through, my friend."

Banner shook his head at him and Tony placed his hands on his face, smooshing his cheeks together in a ridiculous way.

"Everybody loves a comedian," said Bruce and stepped back over to me. I looked up at him, angry scars obscuring his right eye. He seemed to be studying my face too, but for a different reason. "Are you ready for this?"

I was trembling so badly that I didn't trust myself to speak, so I just nodded instead.

"Okay," he said and reached for something in his back pocket. Afterwards, he removed his blazer jacket and tossed it along the side of the dome, followed by his shoes and socks as well. It was a bit odd seeing Banner barefoot, and if I didn't know better about his notorious alter ego, the gesture might have looked as if he was about to teach yoga, rather than run a scientific test.

"Tony has modified the pendant and taken out a few inconsistencies that we were having problems with. It should be a smoother transition for you this time. I'm going to help you focus the energy once you've gotten used to it, but if you start to feel uncomfortable or out of control at any point, let me know, and I have a button that will automatically unclasp it, capisci?"

I nodded again. _Holy guacamole._

Banner added grimly, "And if you _do_ lose control accidentally, that's okay. These walls are strong enough to stop anything, even the _other guy_. And, trust me, if _he_ wakes up, you'll get a more authentic training session."

I must have turned my own shade of Hulk-green, because Banner put a hand on my shoulder, steadying me.

"Hey, I was just joking. It'll be fine."

I took a deep breath. Suddenly, bright lights flooded the dome from above us, blinding me temporarily.

"Are you reaaady to ruuumble?" Tony's voice thundered at us.

As Banner sighed with exasperation, I watched in horror as two new figures entered the gym space. One hovered in the shadows, black jacket wrapping around him, exposing its green golden lining along the collar. He waited. The other strode purposefully forward, sweat pants and t-shirt, fresh from his morning run. When he stood next to Tony, I wished there was some way I could hide behind Bruce. I felt like a bug under a microscope.

"Hey, Capsicle," came Tony's good-natured jab. "Come to watch the show?"

"I'm here in case you need assistance," Steve said, no-nonsense and grim.

Stark poked him in the ribs, or at least tried to. "I'm gonna make some popcorn. You want some?"

I saw Rogers shake his head, and at that moment, his eyes locked with mine. I drew them away, with effort, forcing myself not to look beyond Steve, into the shadows, where Loki looked on as well.

Banner cleared his throat, an indication to Tony to stop clowning around. Stark spread his hands nimbly across the control panel and nodded, the first time I'd seen him serious all morning.

Bruce stepped closer to me, his eyes winking in a kind, comforting way. "Ready?"

I breathed out. _Sure. Born ready._ "Whenever you are."

The doctor grasped the necklace with two hands and held it out, slipping it around my neck until the clasp clicked.

The familiar warmth—unlike Loki's icy chill—wrapped around me. I could feel it pulsing in my arms, my legs, and my stomach, running up and down my body like a fever, throbbing its ache and heat. It was almost an aura, a thick vibrating cloud moving around me and inside me. If I opened my eyes (seeing red) I was sure to find the golden orb surrounding me. It was like being in love without the roses, the chocolate, and the diamonds. It was intoxicating, and I lusted after it.

"Kaila?"

I opened my eyes, and I was still in the dome. My vision was slightly blurry, and I could just make out Banner's figure, hands hovering close to me in case I fell.

"Are you still with me?" His brown eyes were sharp and worried.

I moved my head slowly up and down, and it was as if I could feel other heads connected to mine bobbing simultaneously. I felt minor vertigo and shifted my stance, but Banner had already caught me, setting me gently down to lean against a side of the glass dome.

"What's wrong with her?" That was Steve's voice, thick with concern and compassion.

The room spun, and Banner still had me by the arms, studying my face.

"Do you want me to take the necklace off?" he asked quickly.

I put my hands over my head, trying to focus on his voice and stop the dizzying rush of power streaming through me, so seductive yet debilitating at the same time. As my head jerked to the right, I paused.

"Yes or no?"

Loki was kneeling there, right in front of the dome, as the others looked on. Slowly, he drew up his hand and pressed it to the glass in a gesture of solidarity.

I raised a hand up to mirror his and clenched it firmly into a fist.

"No. Carry on."

I heaved myself up and, with Bruce's help, stood unevenly. Together, we walked to the middle of the dome. Face to face, I breathed in and breathed out. I could almost _feel_ the magic sparking between my fingers, waiting to be used, waiting to get out. I was ready.

Running a hand through his hair again, somewhat nervously, Banner said, "All right. Create a display. To your left."

My hands stretched out at rapid speed, and a bolt of energy shot from my fingertips, as fast as lightning. The magic sizzled where it was sent, leaving a charred and blackened stain along the glass.

I didn't even have to look at the others to know that their mouths were collectively wide open. Only Loki was as stoic as ever—standing up, leveling his eyes with mine, cheering me silently onward.

Bruce's arms were outstretched, tense, waiting, and excited.

"To the right," he said steadily.

I practiced my stance, bending forward over one knee and crossing my arms to generate a fuller charge. The energy crackled through my system and expanded on the other side of the glass. I could feel the dome shake slightly, reverberating with its force, leaving another burn in its wake.

My pulse quickened as I continued, moving along the circumference of the arena. Banner guided me smoothly along. The strangest part was how completely natural it all felt. I could have been gliding along in an ice rink for as effortless as it was. And unlike before, this energy was never-ending. It would not fade or extinguish. With this power I could be as strong as Thor and as cunning as Loki.

For the first time, I felt like a god, and it was a frightening thought.

The energy began spouting out faster than before, golden revolutions turning over and over in my mind, like something out of Harry Potter's wand. My hands whirled, faster, faster. I could barely breathe—I was caught up in the motions.

And I began to wonder how easy this was going to be to stop.

"Are you getting this?" Bruce called above the roar of the magic, his face marveling and ecstatic.

"JARVIS is capturing it all digitally," assured Stark. "And it's totally going on youtube."

I was shimmering, spattering energy left and right, but I couldn't slow down; I couldn't stop.

Banner must have noted the panic on my face, because he took a miniature remote from his pocket.

"Do you want to take a break?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes—"

That's when everything went a little crazy.

At the same moment I tried to respond, power accidentally flew from my fingertips, blasting straight into Bruce and his hand—the one that held the remote.

"That's not good," Tony deadpanned in the short gap of silence that followed.

Banner's cry modulated into the howl of the Hulk as he changed before my eyes into the terrifying green figure. His shirt tore apart until the threads were hanging, tatters draping over one green shoulder. At his gigantic feet, the remote was half crumpled, half melted, and certainly beyond repair. I shot a sideways glance at Tony and Steve, gaping by the control panel, and then the Hulk threw me against the wall like a tabby cat tossing a mouse.

The impact temporarily knocked the air from my lungs, but it (strangely) didn't hurt me, besides a slight sting, and it didn't crack the glass. I slid down the side of the wall, landing on my feet, and gained back control of my powers, as if the shock of the blow had forced my mind to concentrate. Being put face-to-face with the Hulk could focus one's mind exquisitely.

As the beast ran towards me angrily, I countered his assault with bursts of energy, noting that they slowed him down but did not appear to harm him. More quick bursts followed, but the Hulk eventually caught me, picking me up by the heels, swinging me upside down, and hurtling me across the floor.

I skidded on my side painfully, but popped right back up, sending out more sparks at the Hulk.

"Stop this!" Steve cried, as if he was miles away. "Can't you remove the necklace?"

"Actually, I think that's the only thing between her and becoming road kill right now," said Tony dryly.

So how was this going to end? Was I just going to tire him out? Judging from the cycle of pummelings I was receiving, that might take a while.

And then Loki was right beside the dome, urging me on. I was a bit surprised that he was still there. I knew how much hurt the Hulk had inflicted on him in Manhattan, and the memory of it must have been unbearable, yet he was there.

As my heartbeat picked up, I began to lose control again with the stress and exasperation. In response to my anxiety, I ran away from the Hulk, trying to avoid hitting him with the blasts, but they picked up speed instead.

"Loki—I can't control it!" I screamed towards him.

The Hulk bellowed a wrenching moan and brought his fists down, ready to flatten me, but I countered his movements, bringing my own fists up to stop him. Remarkably, they held. It was my first time experimenting with my increased strength since the mud monster incident. I grit my teeth, pushing back against his gigantic green arms and forcing him against the wall. Further erratic bursts of energy seared his flesh. With a piercing howl, the Hulk released me, and I dashed away from him, running to the opposite side of the dome.

I began feeling very hot—not the pleasant warmth of the pendant's concentrated magic, but a feverish heat. A red haze spread over my vision, and spurts of energy left my body without any control, getting stronger, stronger, stronger…

"Help!" I shrieked, completely unsure of what to do.

Across from me, the Hulk grunted and ambled towards me. I skipped away, flinging myself around him to get on his opposite side again.

Then I saw a flurry of activity outside the dome. Loki was leaning over the control panel, breaking through Stark's prohibitive position. There was a whisper—the sealed doors were opening. At the same time, I saw my hands change from a light pinkish color to a burnt orange.

"No!" I cried, hands outstretched. Loki was at the door, trying to squeeze through just as it opened, but Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked him back just as Tony shut the doors again.

"We—have to—save her!" Loki gasped through fuming anger.

Rogers still had his arms around him, bracing Loki's attempts to shake off the super soldier.

"She's too volatile right now—and with the Hulk loose, it's too risky. They might kill you!"

Even as my vision grew redder and energy began to sizzle all around me, I noted how Loki stopped fighting Steve, how he began to relax against him, seeing reason. And then all eyes were on the arena, on me.

The Hulk was gearing up to knock me into next year when I couldn't hold the building magic back any longer. A crescendo of white heat shot out of my body in all directions, filling the entire dome with energy hotter than fire. Like molten lava, it spread, covering the walls and pouring over the Hulk. He roared in pain, shoved backwards with the force and the blistering heat. I felt the explosion like a purge, like screaming at the top of your lungs in a wide field.

A calm and quiet filtered over the arena. I was rocking back and forth on my heels, numbed by the sudden eerie silence.

"Kaila?" That was Steve, his soft voice worried.

"Oh, God," came Tony's shuddering breath. "Bruce."

From the dissipating crackle of electricity and the steamy haze, I saw him. He was lying on his side on the floor, no longer a terrifying giant, but a man, fragile and horribly still.

The intensity of the explosion left me breathless, yet surprisingly, not weak. I moved towards the fallen Avenger slowly.

"Kaila! No!" Steve cried.

"Let her help him," said a quiet voice. It was Loki.

Gradually, I approached Banner, hovering my hands over his torso, sensing his weakness. At first, I feared he was dead, but his heart beat faintly, and I felt his light breath as he exhaled against the back of my hand. Gently, I rolled him over onto his back and pressed one palm to his right wrist, the other to the side of his face. Consciously, I visualized the energy flowing from the pendant, to me, then to his body, warming it.

Like a light turning on, the magic flowed—a running spring—through me and into Banner. Almost at once he breathed deeper, and color came back to his cheeks.

I held him for a moment, bringing more energy to his weakened cells, imagining the magic repairing his body, already ravaged by the Razors, now pushed so past its limit that even the Hulk had to vanish.

In my mind I willed him to wake, sending my thoughts to his subconscious.

Bruce opened his eyes, a look of astonishment on his face, and he stared at me silently, blinking. I was frankly astonished too.

_Huh. Never did __that__ before._

"Did I hurt anybody?" he rasped.

He pursed his lips together, and I realized that this had become Banner's rote question after an incident with the "other guy." I could tell by the fear in his face and the way his eyes kept darting around.

"No, I hurt _you_," I whispered.

His eyes widened more, focusing on the pendant hanging from my neck, still glowing a faint orchid color.

Then the doors opened with another murmur of air and Steve was running over to us.

"Is everyone all right?"

Tony was close behind him, and he knelt beside Bruce.

"I think so," Banner said thoughtfully, trying to sit up. "Whatever we gave her, Stark, it packs quite a wallop."

"C'mon, big guy," said Tony good-naturedly, placing a firm hand around the doctor. "Let's get you to bed." Then he turned to me, almost as a side note. "You feel like creating some pyrotechnics tonight, come to my club. I think it's time to celebrate."

As the two headed out, I watched Steve pick up Banner's jacket and shoes dutifully before circling back around to me.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay, Kaila?"

I nodded, unsure how to express my current concerns. Tony seemed elated, and even Bruce was amazed when he came to. But how had I been a success by nearly killing Banner? What was there to celebrate?

"Take it off now," breathed another voice in my ear. It was Loki. Of course, it was Loki.

He was kneeling beside me, imploring me with his eyes. I shot a glance at Steve, and he offered nothing—not a word of encouragement or the opposite. It was as if he was just waiting for me.

"No. I—I need air. Take me to the roof!"

Steve lunged forward as if to help me up, but Loki skillfully created a duplicate of himself that stepped in between Rogers and me, and took my arm, joining back into his original self as we walked away.

I looked back as we left the basement, and this time it was Rogers who blended into its shadows.

* * *

It was a drizzly mid-morning in Manhattan, and I suddenly longed for my parents—to see them—to tell them every wondrous unbelievable thing that had happened to me in the past few weeks. I would dare Cynthia, my roommate, to believe it, and maybe she would join me in New York and we…

I took a deep breath, wondering if the pendant's power made my thoughts race as fast as my heartbeat too. I had to think rationally about this situation. My parents would stay in Seattle. Cynthia would finish her international studies degree, and I would remain here—a different person, forever unable to go back to the way I was before.

Not with blade-toothed giant robots after me.

Loki guided us to the roof and we sought shelter under the fire escape's awning before I ventured out into the misting drizzle, feeling the energy ebb and flow inside me.

"It's just like the sea, isn't it?" I said out loud, not expecting any answer.

"Yes."

I turned to him, less surprised at his affirmation than the fact that he had slipped his hand into mine. It was the first time we had touched skin-to-skin without causing the other harm, and I was finally able to appreciate his touch—the feeling of his hand—long slender fingers and cool palm in mine. My heart stirred expectantly.

"How do _you _control it? Do you ever get angry and use your magic without thinking?"

"Not in a long time," said Loki calmly. "It just becomes part of you, I suppose. But sometimes I still dream about turning Thor into a giant ice lolly."

I held back my laughter at the absurd comment, still trying to find peace inside of myself. "That doesn't really help."

Loki paused for a moment, his head cocked to one side, thinking.

"C'mon." He pulled me forward gently towards the center of the roof. Then, closing his eyes, he levitated a foot off the ground.

I gasped, in awe of his feat, when he reached out a hand, beckoning me.

"It only works in short stretches," he explained, "and Thor has always been able to do it better. The whole _hammer_ thing helps."

I looked down at my unmoving feet, uncertain.

"Don't worry about making it happen; just visualize being up here with me."

And in a _Peter Pan_ moment, I had taken his hand and stepped into thin air, like gliding up a flight of stairs, until both of us were hovering.

My pendant swirled with the effort I was expending, and the movement pacified me. Even from only a foot higher, the world around us seemed smaller, put into its place as a frame for my life instead of something that was bound to swallow me whole.

I gazed into Loki's eyes and he stared back. His hand became warmer in mine.

"Do you know what this reminds me of?" he asked quietly, wind and water droplets blowing through his hair. The _cavalier _and _so-sexy _parts were oozing out of him, and I had to steady myself.

"The ball and banquet. When we danced."

Loki smiled slightly, closing his eyes. "That was the moment."

"The moment when what?"

"When I should have kissed you."

With that, his lips practically pounced on mine, and we embraced, my head tilted backward, completely lost in pleasure. We turned around and around in the air, locked in the perfection of the kiss until we parted to breathe.

Still holding hands, I clung to Loki with a half-shriek, half-laugh, when I noticed where we were.

During our kiss, we had somehow floated hundreds of feet into the air until we could see all around the city, and the clouds bumped into our heads.

Knowing my fear of heights somehow, Loki shielded my face with his arm, making soothing sounds, and he took us back to the ground.

It was impeccable timing, because the rain began to pour harder than before, and we ran to the fire escape, huddling under the awning's poor shelter.

"Tired now?" Loki asked, wiping rain out of his eyes.

I pulled the demigod close to me with a power he seemed surprised by. "Not yet."

* * *

**A/N: **Chapter posts might get a big sporadic over the next month, but there are at least two or three more posts for this story left. Thank you all sooo much for the lovely reviews. You make my day—enjoy!


	12. Dilemmas and Dreams

**Chapter 12: Dilemmas and Dreams**

After a late lunch in the communal kitchen, I managed to keep Loki from disappearing again when Clint walked into the room. Barton eyed Loki warily, but seemed to calm down when I engaged him in small talk. One thing led to another, and we began arm wrestling. I won, of course, and dared Clint to replace all of Tony's AC/DC records with Britney Spears, or something. Promptly, without protest, Clint nodded to me and headed out of the room.

Natasha passed him on the way out.

"Where's he going?" I asked, turning to Loki, and he shrugged.

"Off to pay the debt," she said, and I wondered if she had been watching us the whole time. "He doesn't like to put those kinds of things off for later. Who knows what alien crisis he'll have to avert next. May I join in the fun?"

Romanoff arm wrestled me next, and I let her win, but she immediately found out my deceit, and she proposed that both of us try picking up Loki, one at a time, to prove who was physically stronger. Loki immediately backed away, putting up his hands defensively.

"Oh, no, no, no, no."

Nat didn't wait for us to persuade him. She simply went over to Loki, circled her arms around his midriff, and pulled. There was much comical grunting and harrumphing as she barely managed to lift one of his legs off the ground. As she gave in, Nat squeezed Loki playfully on the shoulders and (was I imagining it?) or did he flash a smile back at her?

What was with all the playing nice? I thought Romanoff had a thing _against_ Loki due to his mind control episode with Clint. I felt a twinge of jealousy (okay, maybe _more_ than a twinge) and I stalked over to the god of mischief.

"Let me show you how it's done."

With no more difficulty than picking up a bag of groceries, I lifted Loki well above the floor and promptly flung him over the kitchen bar and into the living room, where he luckily landed on a sofa.

I wasn't sure whose face was more shocked—Nat's or Loki's.

"Good thing you missed the TV. Stark would've been furious if he had to replace it again."

I smirked, the pendant's colors swirling around my neck again. Loki made a slight whimpering noise from the other room—the kind of sad sound he could pull off really well.

"Poor thing. Let's do something _fun_," I said, and I could see my glee and mischief reflected in Romanoff's eyes.

"I know just the thing," she said, bouncing up from her stool.

I raced into the living room, grabbed Loki's hand, and yanked him off the sofa.

"Kaila, I'm getting too old for this kind of thing—"

I rolled my eyes at his objection. "_Really?_ You're going to play the _age_ card on me?"

Loki flailed his hands. "I am over a thousand years old—"

"I hate to quote the Spice Girls, but… If you wanna be my lov—"

"_Don't say it_," he said with a glare.

I shrugged and took his hand. "C'mon, Reindeer Games."

* * *

This new energy—sustaining me—was still difficult to get used to. Like a drug, it had the potential to cloud my thinking and send me off on tangents. Any chance at displaying physical prowess, and I was done for. Perhaps this is how Thor felt on a regular basis, and I felt sudden empathy for him. He and Loki had to treat every object and person around them with extra care. Some of the team's remarks towards Thor hinted that the god of thunder was a bit slow, but maybe he was methodical for a reason. It was better to act slowly and get the job done right than rush through it and obliterate everything in your path. Perhaps part of my being more like Thor is what made Loki uneasy about the pendant. Or maybe it was because I was more like _him. _ I pondered this as I pulled Loki along to another section of headquarters, trailing Romanoff at a light pace.

She took us to a relatively small windowless room with four large control panels. This was Stark's corner of headquarters, and I cringed, as if I was intruding upon a sacred space.

"Don't worry. Tony knew I was going to take you here. He knows where we all are at any given moment anyway, thanks to Jarvis." Nat's eyes rolled upwards, indicating the unseen, yet ever present, A.I. "You'd think we all had chips in our heads."

Loki finally got free of my iron grasp and sank into a chair off to one side while Natasha positioned herself at the center control panel, her fingers flying with precision. I couldn't possibly imagine why we were here until Romanoff burst out: "Ha!"

The projection floated in mid-air, a 3D composite of a grey jumpsuit, almost like her black one, although more industrial, with flared legs and rolled cuffs at the arms. The only thing missing was a utility belt and a cape.

"This is my outfit?" I asked, stepping over to it with enthusiasm.

"I started working on it when I heard you might be on the team. Is grey a good color?"

"It's very functional," I observed, stepping around it to admire its back. I was astonished at the form—who knew that the Black Widow had fashion design aspirations?

"And comfortable," Nat added. "You could really move around in it. Try it on."

I looked at her with a question on my face. "How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"Step into it," she said smoothly, with a dry smile.

I walked forward hesitantly, and the holographic image smoothly covered me, as if it was real. The screen in front of the control panel projected a mirror, and I could almost _feel_ the invisible fabric against my skin.

"What do _you _think, Jarvis?" Romanoff mused.

"It's the bee's knees, ma'am," came the smooth voice.

"It's terrible," said Loki.

We whipped our heads over to where he sat, arms crossed, obviously unimpressed.

Nat put her hands on her hips. "You think you can design a better outfit, Ralph Lauren?"

Without missing a beat, Loki said, "A Bilgesnipe could design a better outfit."

Nat threw up her hands. "Go ahead then!"

Loki stood up and approached the control panel, fiddling with it as if he had personally engineered the system. Instantly, the projection of the outfit began to flicker, changing before my eyes.

"Kaila's not working as a welder by day and dancer by night. She exudes confidence _everywhere_ she goes."

I laughed inwardly at that reference, but said nothing.

"A conduit is unique to each realm. They are protectors and representatives of their own worlds, but they are also related by physical connection to all other worlds. Her outfit should be more _universal_: a touch of Asgard, a hint of Midgard…"

As he worked, the artificial fabric glimmered and took a new shape. This time it formed into a gauzy silver dress in an Asgardian style, long, and flowing. Heart-shaped along the neckline, Loki saved a spot to showcase the pendant, resting and swirling with maroon color in its proper place. When Loki was finished, he clasped his hands and raised them up with pride.

"I don't use this word often," he said, "but your costume is _glorious."_

After taking a few twirls in it, I couldn't help but agree.

Natasha sighed heavily. "You're right, Loki. And I never thought I'd say that, but you're right."

Loki beamed—and his satisfaction gave me hope. If I could only continue the interactions—incorporate Loki into more Avengers activities—I knew that he would not only be accepted, but accept the others too.

It turned out that I didn't have to seek far and wide to find a convenient social function—I had forgotten about Tony's club invitation for later that night, and most of the group was gathering at an Italian restaurant beforehand.

The evening flew by. It barely seemed like Jane and I were comparing lipsticks before we were sitting next to each other at the large raucous table, which could only belong to a group of the Avengers. Loki sat on my left side, along the end.

I almost pinched myself. Loki was there. As I sat and tried to disengage him from the chaos, I couldn't help find it fascinating to follow Loki's eyes as they flitted about, taking in the scene and reading each person as if he was skimming a good book, or, at times, a rather trashy one.

As an only child, I could relate somewhat to the overwhelming quality of crowds. But I also loved being part of the group too, joining this huge family of misfits and intrigue and camaraderie.

Stark was maneuvering between various seats at the table, chatting up Pepper for a few sentences before dashing off to talk to the bartender, a waitress, and go back to his seat. He was a man in perpetual motion, his mind working as quickly as the fluid machines he so lovingly crafted.

Thor was boisterous, his mood having improved exponentially when he saw Loki join us, as well as when Loki took my hand. I thought I'd have to get a heavy duty cleaner to wipe the smile off the Asgardian's face. Contented, he sat next to Jane while both of them attempted to finish the largest plate of spaghetti and meatballs I'd ever seen.

Even Clint and Nat seemed to be in good spirits, commenting on the variety of calzones and trying to remember which ones they'd ordered before.

Stark placed another cocktail in front of me, and I waved him away.

"No thanks," I said politely. "Wouldn't want a repeat of your last party."

"How are you feeling?" Tony deadpanned. "Do I need to call the SWAT team?"

I laughed. "I'm doing fine."

When Stark winked and walked away, I felt for Loki's hand underneath the table and gave it a small squeeze.

"Remember to breathe," I murmured to him.

His blank features remained unreadable, but he inclined his head slightly, and he pinched my hand. From Loki, that gesture was the equivalent of a fist bump.

As I sipped from my glass of ice water and munched on the still-warm bread rolls, I tried to pretend that I wasn't staring at Steve Rogers and keeping a curious eye on him.

He sat at the complete other end of the table from us and had been extremely quiet all night. Once, when I was looking at him, his eyes swiveled to mine, and I quickly looked away, feigning interest in the menu, only to have Loki reach over, bend my head down, and kiss me.

Rogers abruptly stood up, nearly knocking his chair over in the process, and apologized, but he had to get back to Headquarters and check on Banner, who was still too exhausted from the past few days' excitement to join us. The others made a collective "Awww!" in protest, but Steve raised his hands in supplication and bid us a good night before walking out.

My heartbeat quickened, and I couldn't help feeling that the real reason Cap wasn't staying was because of Loki sitting beside me, and the way he had kissed me like that, so quick that it should have remained a secret, yet painfully public at the same time.

Dinner passed by in a flash, and we were on our way to Tony's Club, _The Reactor._ I felt the ever-present energy flowing inside me, amplified by the vibrating beat of the dance music that seemed to bounce off my chest and back into the fray. There was no pause to sit down and gather our thoughts, scope out the room, or get a drink. Dancing with the Avengers was done under serious moonlight.

Jane and Thor were naturals, picking up on each other's unique rhythms and creating their own syncopations. Gorgeous, and in love, they swayed from side to side, as if nothing was important but each other, living and breathing in the here and now.

Even Tony and Pepper were sliding into each other's arms, holding each other gently, basking in the glow of oneness with another person.

Clint and Nat surveyed the peripheries of the club (ever the conscientious spies) and then Barton leaned back on his elbows against the wall, projecting marked disinterest. To my surprise, it was Romanoff who pulled him away from his complacency, taking his hand and leading him away from the wall to the center of the floor. In one instant, I saw a solid role reversal, where Nat embodied the calm and no-nonsense qualities of Clint's nature. Curling a hand around his wrist, she moved him closer to her body, and he didn't resist.

Loki was pale and worried again, his clothing so black that he threatened to slip back into the gloom of the club. Instead, I took the cue from Romanoff and pulled the god closer. His eyes flashed surprise and uncertainty.

"It's okay," I soothed into his ear, my voice loud above the bass beats. "Focus on me."

As his eyes concentrated on mine, I became lost in their green depths, calculating the meaning behind them, loving their sudden sincerity and innocence. And always, the thing that had drawn me to Loki from the beginning, his passion and fire, ignited the pendant close to my heart. We began dancing in a frenzied jumble of limbs and desires and cross purposes. But I wanted him, he wanted me, and I danced with him as if I was claiming him for my own.

Then the song ended and I was left clinging to him like a life preserver. I felt someone's hand on my shoulder, grasping gently,

"Having fun?" It was Tony.

Loki flinched and walked away. I gave Tony an exasperated look.

"What?" the billionaire cried. "Who knew that Loki could _dance?"_

I sighed and ran after the god of mischief. As we sat down, Clint and Nat walked by, waving happily. There were no secret whispers, and there were no unpleasant disproving frowns. They were used to Loki now—they had maybe even accepted him. But was Loki ready to reciprocate those feelings?

We were sitting across from each other in a little dark alcove framed by green and purple neon lights, the booth glimmering in white upholstery. Loki leaned back, one ankle crossed over the other, staring into space.

"Did she make you jealous?" he asked, out of nowhere.

"What?"

"Romanoff. When she saw with us earlier, in the kitchen. Did she make you jealous?"

It had been such a small event that I had almost completely forgotten about it, but I remembered a slight (more than slight) twinge of jealousy, if that's what it was. "Yes, I suppose."

Loki said, "She didn't do it to hurt you. She did it to spite me."

I honestly wasn't expecting that explanation and forced my jaw not to drop.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"She made you jealous because she knew that would hurt me. To see you in any pain…"

I guess his logic made sense to a point, but it still seemed like a poor excuse to not get with the party.

"Just because you look like a character out of a Neil Gaiman novel doesn't mean you have the right to moan and sulk about all the time. I worry about you, about us…"

Loki smirked. "You're mistaking my distrust for brooding. These people are _not_ who they seem, Kaila."

Again, I wanted to face-palm. "I don't understand, Loki. Explain what you mean."

"They don't care about you, or me, or anyone else except their own image."

The words came out before I could stop myself: "Steve cares."

A sharp eyebrow raised. "Oh. I see now."

"What?" I was heading toward my tipping point.

There was a far-away look in the god's eyes. "Earlier today, in the arena, he… When Rogers pulled me back from the dome, he whispered in my ear. Made me promise that I would always take care of you. He is in love with you."

I couldn't even think of a response—my mind was reeling.

"And you are in love with him."

"No!" I said. "No, Loki. He asked me out once, but I turned him down."

Loki leaned forward, smiling dourly. "So take off the pendant."

Ah, it all made sense. A power play. A _this for that._ Did my faithfulness to Loki equal the removal of my self-defense?

"I want to help them. We've been through this before. I'm sorry."

There was a pause, then Loki stood up slowly, bitterness spreading across his face thicker than a sandwich spread.

"Be careful. Even Captain America has a dark side, Kaila."

He was stealing out of the club faster than I could keep up with him, despite my increased strength, and I tried to stop him in vain. Cars zoomed by on the dismal street outside. Loki was standing underneath the yellow glow of a street lamp and turned his collar up in neo-noir fashion.

"Wait!" I shouted, my words cutting through the sounds of the city. How was this day suddenly dissolving into fragments? Why did it have to end like this? Instead of me being the one to flee the party, it was Loki this time.

He glanced at me, a mournful look, and walked away.

I stood by myself on the street corner, feeling lost, the long day and its many events finally catching up with me. I longed to call Loki back, to sit him down, to unravel the secrets he still resisted revealing to me. It was frustrating, and it was also breaking my heart. I felt like I had tried every possible method to make Loki feel comfortable in the group, and it ultimately didn't work.

Touching the pendant around my neck, I felt its smooth security, its power running through me in slower ebbs and flows. The violet light in it was lessening, not because the power was running out, but because I was growing tired.

"Even superheroes get tired," I mumbled. At that moment, the only thing that seemed to matter was curling up in a nice warm bed.

I made the trek back to headquarters on my own, stumbling as best I could down dark avenues, missing Loki, and trying to put the pieces together. Should I confront Thor? Was this a secret the god of thunder would have been privy to?

And Rogers. Loki's age-old jealousy had a reason to flare this time. What were my feelings concerning the Captain? In that moment, my mind was too muddled to think clearly.

The Avengers tower glowed neon blue, like a beacon, and I pushed past the double door entrance, swiping my key card in the lobby to use the elevator up to the level that featured our living quarters and the communal rooms.

Plodding along the corridor to my apartment, I was about to open the door when I heard the faint sound of a TV coming from the living room. Exhausted, yet driven with an inquisitiveness that only comes from desperately wanting a happy ending to one's day, I crept to the den.

Steve Rogers was sitting on the couch, remote in hand, settled back and glued to an old 1940's black and white picture on the tube. Beside him, in the recliner to his left, was Bruce, mouth wide open in mid-snore, fast asleep.

"Kaila!" Rogers perked up a bit when he saw me, scooting over to the left on the sofa to give me plenty of room. "Wanna join us?"

I nodded shyly and sat next to him, taking a folded blanket on the couch and bringing it up over my knees like I used to do when I was little. It was nice to relax after such a long and ultimately stressful day.

We sat in silence for several moments, and I found myself being caught up in the story and the suspense.

"Is that Veronica—"

"Lake," said Steve without blinking. "Yeah, it's _This Gun For Hire_, one of my favorites."

"I love old movies," I said without thinking, then backtracked. "Er—I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Oh, that's all right," he said with a chuckle. "That was my time, and there are days when I feel like I'm still back in it."

As we continued watching I felt my eyelids grow heavier, drowsy with the warmth and fuzziness of the sofa and blanket. Steve broke the silence by asking me how the evening went. Without going into detail, I described Tony's club and told him I'd left early because I was tired.

"Is the pendant working out?" he asked, switching subjects. He seemed pained at the mention of the nightclub.

"Yes, I feel like I can control it a bit better, but I'm still getting used to its energy. I feel like I could physically stay up for a few more days, but my brain is too tired."

"I felt the same way after the serum," said Rogers intently. "I didn't know when to quit. But there are times when you have to let go and give your mind a break."

At that moment, Bruce mumbled something about "the Inheritor" and shifted restlessly in his recliner.

Steve grinned and got up quietly from the couch. "Sounds like Banner should get to bed. I'll be right back."

With that, Rogers gently put his arms around the doctor and slowly lifted him. Banner woke up slightly, letting Steve half-walk, half-carry, him through the door and down the hallway. I fleetingly thought: _Only Steve could treat the Hulk so tenderly._

The moment reminded me of when Steve had dutifully picked up Banner's articles from the arena floor earlier that day, and when he held Loki back from getting hurt during my showdown with the Hulk. My heart felt an enormous surge of respect for Rogers then. I was constantly amazed by him; I was in awe not only of his leadership skills, but of his patience and self-sacrifice as well. He was consistently a friend to me within the group when others were too busy or distracted. He had even saved my life in the stairwell; it was strange to think that the incident had taken place mere days ago.

As I continued watching the movie, I heard a door slam somewhere in another section of my level, and Tony's distinctive voice was shrill.

"Where the _hell_ are my AC/DC records?!"

The exclamation almost made me laugh out loud. I had totally forgotten about my dare earlier with Hawkeye. Steve's voice murmured in reply, trying to calm Tony down.

"Shhh! Bruce is sleeping. What happened?"

More muffled discussion continued as Tony replied irately, and I heard faint music playing.

"Backstreet Boys?!" Tony screamed, followed by a loud expletive.

As I listened to the conversation, I felt my head sink further into the cushions, and my eyes slowly closed in utter exhaustion. In what felt like a few hours later (but was most likely only a few minutes) Steve's face hovered over mine.

"Someone finally crashed," he whispered kindly, his voice seeming to echo around me.

I wanted to reply, but barely managed to sit up straighter, kicking the blanket off my feet overtly and attempting to stand. Unfortunately, as soon as my feet hit the soft carpet, I was overcome by drowsiness. Warmth surrounded me, as if the blanket had wrapped itself purposefully around my body again, and my eyes closed…

"Looks like I'll have to put you to bed too…"

Strong arms were around me, lifting. My head rested against Steve's chest as he cradled my body. I was floating, moving without the sensation of movement, and then I was placed in a soft bed. My shoes were taken off one by one, and warm sheets were placed over my body, wrapping me in a sleepy cocoon.

"Goodnight, Kaila," came his voice as sleep enveloped me.

I fell into black and white dreams of singing in a smoky café. Rogers was dressed as old school Captain America, sitting at a small table in the front, watching me. When I was finished with the routine, he grinned and took my hand, leading me off the stage, but I gasped when I spied the dark figure sitting in the back. In spite of the dim light I could spy his green eyes, watching us intently.

The music stopped abruptly and Loki stood up, sauntering stiffly over to us. It didn't seem strange in the dream, but he was wearing a black overcoat and a fedora. Never taking his eyes off me, he grabbed my hand and instantly fell to his knees.

I shrieked, feeling for the pendant around my neck only to realize that it wasn't there. Other patrons ran away, chairs and tables overturning in the tussle.

Captain America was pulling me behind him, and he dragged Loki roughly to his feet by his lapels. "Listen, buddy. You leave the lady alone—understand?"

Loki smiled weakly. "I understand, Captain, but I never promised."

Rogers threw the god of mischief to the ground in disgust, but I brushed past the super soldier, kneeling beside Loki. I gasped when I saw him up close; dark circles were under his eyes, sweat ran down his face, and I could see spots of blood seeping through patches in his undershirt.

"Loki," I whispered frantically. "Who _did_ this to you?"

"Everyone has a dark side, Kaila," he said. "Even an Avenger…"

* * *

**A/N: **I couldn't help writing a teensy dream sequence—they're just too fun! Now you have to ask yourself this question: Are you on Team Loki, or Team Steve? Ha! I hope you're all having as much fun _reading_ this fic as I am _writing_ it. Thanks again for the wonderful reviews, and enjoy!


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